Vomiting plays well in your average Hollywood or Dollywood. Witness Adam Sandler, “The Exorcist,” and Calista Flockhart’s fainting-from-exhaustion episodes on the set of “Ally McBeal.” But it’s a little less popular in New Haven, where it’s more often associated with DKE and alcoholics.
Despite this unpopularity, though, for the first time at Yale, I saw a girl throwing up last Saturday night. I know, I know, I should hang out in the girls’ bathroom at Commons during lunch. But it was quite a shock.
She was in the Vanderbilt courtyard (I’m sorry, whoever you are) fertilizing the zinnias with a crowd of about, oh, everyone from New Haven standing around her, doing what is commonly known as, I believe, gawking.
This was just one in a series of strange events that happened last Saturday. I was just venturing out after the shock of last Thursday’s “Survivor” — the raciest and best episode of all time. Elisabeth is beyond lovely, Michael killed a chicken and a pig and put blood on his face, and the guy with syphilis got kicked off.
So I was planning a light night– a no Toad’s, not that much drinking, no paragliding from the Omni to Atticus kind of night. But I did end up at Vanderbilt, juniorship notwithstanding, at my first freshman party in a couple of years. I don’t know exactly what series of events led us to Dante’s upwards inferno “fifth floor,” but when we got there, it was overwhelming.
First of all, I had forgotten the remarkable lighting schemes, evidently based on the David Copperfield school of taste, some Old Campus parties are wont to employ. It was blinding. Purple, blue, yellow and the obligatory strobe, or glaucoma, as it might be, all swirled around.
Part of the reason for this may be that people are so eager to hook up that they don’t want to see anything they might hook up with too closely. Since I wasn’t drinking that much though, this all looked a little obscene to me. People were sitting on top of the refrigerator making out with their shirts only semi-on, and the couches, to the hosts of the party, I would debug and then incinerate.
Apparently, this party was the only one on all of Old Campus. This I can’t blame on the hosts, as much as I’d like to, but I can feel intense and overwhelming anger at the people who prevented me from getting up (and thus down) the five flights inside of an hour. There were people draped over the railings, people standing smack in the middle of the stairs who couldn’t be moved with a jackhammer, and people walking down the stairs with razors taped to their hips.
It was brutal. I should have called the fire department and had them all canned. And when I finally did get up and down, after only a brief layover at the aforementioned party, there was the girl head in the bushes. What a nightmare. There’s no real moral to this story. I’m just presenting it as a warning to anyone brave enough to go to a freshman party. Something will inevitably go awry, and it will either happen in the bushes or the stairs. A far more intelligent thing to do on Saturday night — and I’m including “Walker, Texas Ranger” in this equation, President Levin — but not everybody can handle your level of sedatives is to go to Yorkside.
This makes nearly no sense whatsoever, I know. But think about it. They have beer. Everyone goes there after Toad’s crashing drunk, falling everywhere and eager to go to latenight. Whereas these people, however, will crash and burn halfway down High Street, you, who have been nursing half a Rolling Rock for an hour — and have not depleted your life force by going to Old Campus– will be ready to start the night right.
The latenights haven’t been great this year, but I hear that the flu has struck in the NHPD, so things may look up. And if they don’t, you can make the smooth transition to Krauszer’s. If you stay there until five or so, you may be able to manage a freshman party without breaking your collarbone and your eyes. Plus you’ll have the most amazing collection of Beef Jerky outside of Oklahoma.
So once again, for those of you still weak from the party like I am, it’s Yorkside, latenight at wherever, Krauszer’s and Old Campus. It’s failsafe. Have a good time and send me 20 bucks if you do. Me, I’m going to tape “Survivor” and watch Elisabeth walk to tribal council in slow motion. There’s no way in hell I’m going out any time soon.
The doctor advised against it.