I spent all my money on comics, skateboards and wings...the rest I just wasted

Despite Thursday's best efforts, Friday become one of those mornings where I got things done. My eagerness to move forced me to pick up my housing assessment, I swung by the journalism office to pick up my homework as well as picking up my textbooks that arrived in the post. I even managed to book my judicial meeting over the 30 pack of beer incident. All of this before a shower...yuck.

I met up with Sam and Richard and together, we pieced together more of the night before. These are more like footnotes to the night before, but a bit of fun nonetheless: Alex ended up at some random house, performing his usual beer stealing tricks before making tracks back to Amherst. Rumours suggest this was around 3 or 4AM. For some reason most of the bars in Amherst seem to only have one bathroom, with a single toilet to use. Richard and I saw past this, entered at the same time and as I used the proper receptacle, he instead chose the bin. Efficient. We also managed to wake the whole sorority house at 2:30 in the morning, by ringing the doorbell. Not yet satisfied, Richard, Matt and I would spend the last part of the night trying to catch a rabbit, but alas, it proved too rapid.

Anyway, that was Thursday, and Friday was to prove just as fun. After the dining hall experience, we ventured down to bottle shop to grab some beers and spirits. My skateboard would slow us down (the round trip took about 90 minutes), but we returned with adequate supplies and no reprimand from the five-o. Alex had just gotten out of bed - it must have been around 8 or 9 by now - and started the day with a beer. We drank our supplies of Narrangansett and PBR before making our way onto the Northampton bus.

After some minor confusion with details from Google Maps and a fellow bus passenger we finally made it to the Pearl Street Clubhouse. The room was more like a basement, with exposed pipes, black paint and a DIY air-conditioning job. It was dingy, sweaty and perfect for live music. Sam duly added that it was also the least baseball caps he'd seen. We arrived halfway into the second band's set, and we all shared a collective laugh when the Massachusetts hipsters started 'dancing'. Americans, it seems, are unable to actually dance. It's why the sluts only seem to grind, while the hipsters just flail.

Wavves came on stage and left just as quickly. Their set was only about 35 minutes, but it was a shit-tonne of fun. If we weren't planning on going out after it would have been perfect to get involved with the crowd, but alas, we chose the road less travelled, and did not leave covered in sweat.

Bieber fever

It was a shame, because we never really made it out after. The highlight of the bus trip back was Sam waxing poetic about how much he loves food. He spoke of haloumi and sweet bacon in a way that would make Jamie Olliver blush, but when asked for his favourite food, his morose Brummy accent revealed "baked beans and sausages". Once we got off the bus we met up with John, but behind him was a group of people with a ghetto-blaster and a megaphone doing some 'dancing'. There was a pink gorilla and other zany costumes as people flailed to some vintage INXS. We kept walking, settling for a bottle of vodka in one of the rooms before our planned night out. Once the bottle was opened Nicholas, Alex and Richard's suite mate strolled up. Upon his suggestion we ordered an American styled midnight snack...60 wings - 30 buffalo, 30 honey-mustard.

Our drunken mouths were covered in various wing sauce, looking like a room full of Ronald McDonalds as we all realised that the night was over. Satisfied and sleepy, I went to bed, knowing that I had to move the next day.

It was liberating leaving homicide Hamlin to become Lewis of Lewis. Seriously, the building I leave in is named after me. Though I missed travelling around and living out of a bag, I won't lie, it felt nice to put my clothes on hangers and my books on a shelf.

Happiness is a stocked bookshelf.

The boys and I went on another wander to the bottle shop again, reliving scenes straight out of prohibition. I still find the 21 drinking age here a remarkably poor idea. Everyone under-age drinks, it's a fact, but because it's forbidden, it's not taken to responsibly. So now, when I want to go and drink with my friends (who can all drink at home) I have to do so undercover, because there are so many bored policeman in this town waiting to hand out fines.

Richard and Sam can't organise their sock collection

So anyway, with our measly 6 packs in hand, we all headed back to a room to make a start to the night. After a few beers we received the call to head to Pufton, where a party was being held for Matt's 21st. The walk featured shared vodka from Anna, that was potent enough to knock her out fairly early. It also explains a lot of where the rest of went.

When we finally arrived at the party, we all took our shoes off, which proved bad news for Richard and Sam. The party was full of fellow international students, and within 5 minutes the tiny 1 bedroom apartment was wall to wall with people.

My tape stopped recording pretty early in the night, but from all reports everyone had a pretty amazing time. Judging by how I felt the next day I'm assuming I was the same. I really wish I had more to say, but for the most part I don't remember, nor am I proud...oh well, party life!

Stolen facebook photo proves I had fun

The next day was highlighted by a huge hangover (or as the Brits say 'hanging out your arse') and a little bit of spew under the shade of a tree I sought refuge under. Despite this, I put forward a Churchillian like effort and persevered with my homework. Eventually I shrugged the hangover off, met some friends in the dining hall and went through the forensics of the night before. It was agreed, we all got blasted, and indeed, had a blast.

***Song
Eels - Railroad Man
I absolutely adore this version of Railroad Man. I have never seen Eels before, and I was a trifle distraught when they announced a Sydney show the weekend after I left, but in the Mark Olliver Everett way, all that tragic seems to have pushed me to something better. Instead I'm going (hopefully) to see them in Boston on Friday. I know you're jealous, if not, you need to reconsider your musical tastes.