We went walking towards Diva's, Northampton's favourite gay club, that is converted into an 18+ nightclub on Friday evenings. Along the way we saw hordes of people - most already inebriated - head towards what is essentially a warehouse at the end of the street in a small town. Police lights were flashing in the distance and as we walked, we saw them come closer and closer. A young man had decided to try his luck on foot, but the chubby officers giving chase had bursts of pace only seen in Matt Dunning. The guy's gamble didn't pay off, and neither did ours.
The line for the club was huge, snaking into the neighbouring automotive garage. Logic dictated that if the line outside was that big (and stationary), then the chances of ordering a beer were minimal. Instead, Max, Lee-Roy and myself headed back into the town centre and stopped by the Paradise City Tavern. we circumvented the dress codes by being foreign, but our charm would not earn us any free beer.
We stayed for a few, planned a trip to NYC to watch The Ashes and generally had a great time away from the masses of young, fluoro types. At midnight we headed for a bus back to Amherst, greeting the previously shy MDMA dealer. I guess business had been good for him tonight. Some American girls got chatting to us on the bus and joined us on our trip back to John's new room. It's a single, and most jail cells are bigger, but it didn't stop him from bringing in a large crowd of guests. Given it was Columbus weekend, noise was not an issue this time.
The next night we all ventured back up to the same building, but a different room for a couple of drinks. Again, people kept pouring in and before we knew it, the room had turned into a miniature party. Ollie was offering up his opinion, calling the gathering a "batty-fest" in his thick northern accent, but not long later he would be sucking John's toe. The drinks kept flowing, and with it came the craziness. Rubbish was being thrown out the windows, seven stories down onto the path below. Ketchup packets were being hurled at people like it was major league baseball and the floor's RA came by for regular visits to keep the noise down.
Somewhere along the way Sam and the two Essex girls and myself decided to leave. Along the way Ollie, not wanting to be remembered as a toe-sucker was barrel-rolling down the hallways. We tore down all the posters on the floor and as we walked the short distance to the neighbouring building, we lost Ollie through some safety tape and his own misadventure. We parked ourselves in Kate's room and with the famished feel a number of tinnies deliver, ordered a typically American serving of chips, onion rings and wings.
The banter was flowing like a post-wings bathroom experience and at one stage Kate revealed it took her until year 3 to say the word "the". Amazed, Sam responded "The, as in T H E R?"....err no Sam.
The afternoon slipped by, but Sam and I arranged to head to some op-shops in search of some bitching plaid shirts. I skateboarded down to the bus-stop and Sam and I, slightly woozy and very underdone made it to the Goodwill store that we weren't sure was even open. The shirts may have been terrible, but the $10 suit rack was phenomenal. I grabbed a Draper-esque number while Sam grabbed a similar two-piece effort. Not to be content at such a great deal, I added a Timmy doll to my purchase for $4.50. He now adorns my shelf, making my room feel a bit more personal, if not immature.
|Living a lie|
Again, I ended up back at Sylvan, this time in a room full of German's. The lady who took exception to our behaviour on the first weekend kept passing by the room. She has earned the lovely nickname from the Germans, 'Mahatma Hitler'.
Monday was the final day of the long weekend, it was no where near as productive as this week needed it to be, as all homework was put on hold for beer and downloaded television shows. Even Tuesday offered a lovely distraction.
As has become tradition, Max, Lee-Roy, Michael, John and myself went to stackers for a few pitchers. The bar filled with other international students and quickly became the happiest place on the east coast of the states. We opted out of the Karaoke, but Anja didn't. It was a brave move choosing Alicia Keys, but by the end of the song the whole place was cheering. Bad luck to whoever followed her. The beer cups runneth over all night and it was a brilliant night. An American girl was yapping in a way they are famed for. On and on she went about how to impress other American girls. It was like every teen movie playing out in front of me, but without a sense of irony. Oh well, her advice was drowned out by the progressively atrocious Karaoke. Outside the bars when I was talking to a girl I only seem to see at the wrong end of the night, a fight broke out right in front of us. With it came the cue to leave.
Again, we were back to Sylvan, looking for a way to round out the night. I went to rooms of people I had never met before and was having a great time in the mini parties. One room had a giant tv in one end, and a giant bucket bong in the other. It was the American college dream personified.
The rest of the week was occupied by learning, signing up for a trip to Canada and a wee bit of skateboarding. Tomorrow I'm off on a bus to Boston to see Jimmy Eat World play the songs from their new album I don't know.
Malcolm Middle - We're all going to die
I bought a Santa costume for one of the Halloween parties. Here's part of the inspirado.