4/20/00
MAINE PARTIES
4 PAGES

Well here's something that struck me this weekend enough to go on about for at least ten minutes. One thing that I really miss about home; like home home, Maine was how people there really knew how to party. I'm not saying that they partied harder than people everywhere else, it was just that their style of partying is so unlike anywhere else in the country, well, at least the parts of the country that I've been too. I'm sure you go down south into the styx they do it a lot like we used to. But here in LA, they just don't know how to do it. Here, people get dressed up. Not in suits and ties obviously, although some do. But they get dressed in their nice clothes. Designer shirts and dresses, nice shoes, put on a mound of cologne and then go out.

Now I'm just leaving the whole idea of clubbing out of this for the time being. I'm talking merely about going to a party being thrown by friends or friends of friends. You go out in your nice clothes to somebodies house or apartment, and there is usually music playing, and a fridge fully stocked with whatever alchohol the host has bought. And you all stand around, sit around, shoot the shit, maybe dance and at the end of the night you go home. Now obviously, you've had a good time and gotten good and drunk, and maybe have even gotten a phone number or two. You usually leave with the same person that you came with or at least with the same group that you came with.

Now in Maine, this is how a party night typically was. You may have known about the party a few days ahead of time, but usually it was something that was thrown together last minute. In all seriousness, Friday morning, there'd be no plans, then around noon time, somebody decides that there's going to be a party tonight at his house. He tells his friends to spread the word, and sure enough by 9pm that night, their house is packed. Word travels so fast amongst the small town circles, it'll make you're head spin.

So now I go into personal experience time. This was the week before I left for college. Actually, this was the first night that I ever got drunk, like really and truly drunk. So I drive on over to Jesse's house. Our friend Rocky knew where this place was and so he shows up and is going to catch a ride with us. While we're just hanging around Jesse's place, our friend Tiffany calls us up and asks what we're up to tonight. We tell her we're heading to this party. She tells us to wait for her. No problem. She drives over and we all head out to this party.

Now one thing about these parties is it was always BYOB. That's one thing that always kind of throws me off out here is that whenever you go to a party, it's always the host who provides the alchohal. It's like the host's responsibility. Not when we partied. You always brought your own. But by the same regards, there wasn't the bullshit of writing your name on your stuff when you put it in the fridge. I remember a party we had at Jesse's this past winter. Me and Jesse put our beer in the fridge and it was kind of grab it as you come, and it didn't bother us too much if people wanted to grab one or two. But the thing that would get people pissed off is these like 15 year old brother of some shits, who would show up with no beer and then proceed to mooch off of everybody. That was a good way to get your ass kicked. It's just the way things were there. You always brought your own. It was understood. You'd just make a stop at the liquor store on your way to the party. And then even after you got to the party, it wasn't unusual for a few people to up and leave for about a half an hour making a beer run. But not just beer. People would show up with their bottles of whatever. My friend Stoby always showed up with a shopping bag of vodka and orange juice which he would bring into the party and mix up there. A lot people, especially the underaged ones would bring a thermas or one of those big gulp cups with the lid and straw accessory and mix their schnapps or rum and whatever and just carry that around with them all night.

Another thing about going to these parties which is way different than out here was that it was always come as you are. Nobody really dressed up. The girls didn't even try to dress slutty or anything. It was pretty much jeans and t-shirts. And then during the summer, it was shorts and t-shirts. You knew you were going to be drinking and fucking around and probably rolling around on the ground (more on that later), so you never wore anything nice. I went to parties pretty much how I was dressed on Saturday.

Now the key to throwing a good party was the back yard. Espeically during the hot summer months, people didn't want to be crammed inside all night, so you'd have people partying inside and people partying outside. Whenever we had a summer party at Jesse's we always got the fire permit so that we could have the bonfire. And Jesse had this huge field out behind his house, so we'd all be out around the bonfire, drinking and smoking and just laying out and shoothing the shit. These were often the best moments of the party. They were undoubtedly the most mellow moments of the party. I remember this one I went to that night, my first night drunk. The main party was in the house, but there were about 10-15 people outside just smoking and drinking and laying in the grass, just looking up at the sky. A clear sky full of stars. Staring straight up while the smoke plays in front of your eyes in front of the stars. And there was no weirdness about starting up a conversation with somebody that you barely new, or didn't know at all. You didn't go to these parties to be a player and to try and hook up. That's just not how it worked. Really as I think back on it, with very few exceptions (myself being one of them ;-) people didn't go there and hook up with people they met that night or get phone numbers. The only hooking up that usually happened was people who already knew each other and ended up spending a lot of alchohol induced time together at the party. Then they'd end up doing god knows what. So you're out here laying under the stars, and you'd just start up a conversation or join a conversation and nobody thought that you were just trying to hit on them. Everything was very genuine.

Inside, the music wasn't typical what LA folk would think of as party music. It was usually some kind of classic rock. A lot of times we'd just put the radio station on and go with that. Rap and top 40 would get you killed at these parties. Sometimes people were dancing, but not usually. You all just sat around and shot the shit, drank. Drinking games were fun. Not stupid card games but games like quarters. You'd sit across the table from each other. We played in teams of two. And there was a a line of cups full of beer at each end. And each team would throw the quarters into the other team's cup. And if you landed it, they had to drink that cup. If you tipped off the side of the cup, you had to drink one of your cups. It was a game of pure skill especially considering that after about 10 minutes you'd probalby gone through 5 cups of beer. The best place for this was my friend Lewis Henry. One summer he and a couple guys rented this housed and there was this one room with a big ass table that took up the whole room and we just sat in there and played quarters for like an hour. And the thing was, it was a spectator sport. It was about as much fun for the people sitting on the sidelines watching as it was for us playing. They'd all cheer for a good toss. We made the game even more sporty by hanging a string across the middle of the table about 4 feet up, like a volley ball net. You couldn't just aim the quarters at the cups. You had to learn how to lob it over the string.

Meanwhile back outside (hell some of these parties were all outside, miles from any house), some guys had a car with a sweet sweet sound system. They'd open up their trunk and just blast their speakers out the back for all to enjoy.

Male posturing was a big part of any party. Some guy always had a weight bench in one of the rooms so the guys would eventually find it and see how many times they could bench press whatever was on it. A feat in and of itself while you're drunk. Jesse's house again was great for these male posturing moments. Out on his porch, the rafters of the ceiling were exposed so it was perfect for doing pull ups. Lewis, the poor bastard thought he was the man and started doing those pullups faster than anybody else, but didn't pay attention and ended up smacking his head on the rafter behind him. Best friends would wrestle and see who would call uncle first (yet another reason why you never wore nice clothes to a party), arm wrestling. But mind you, again with a few exceptions, there were never many fights that broke out. And the ones that did were more from chicks who were pissed because somebody had stolen their boyfriend. But never from some guy who had gotten bumped wrong.

Party hopping was a great thing back where I came from. The way it usually happened was that you got to one party and then somebody you know said that one of their friends was also having a party, so at some point you'd load into the car of the most sober person there and fly on over to the other party. During the course of the night, depending on beer runs and party hops, you could end up riding with 3 or 4 different drivers or cars. Half the time, the person who drove you to the party wasn't the one who drove you home. It's amazing anybody got back to their place of origin. But with party hopping, it was never considered an affront to leave one party to head to the next one. In fact, the most beautiful case of party hopping that I ever remember was again this party that me and Jesse were throwing at his place. Around 10 o'clock or so, we hear about the party that was being thrown over at Lewis' place. So we ALL load up and head over to Lewis'. That includes Jesse and me who were throwing the party at Jesse's house! I don't know if anybody stayed at Jesse's. We all just got into our respective cars and headed over to Lewis' house. We were at Lewis's house for probably 2 hours and then, I don't remember what prompted this, we all got back into our resective cars, or hitched rides with somebody else and headed BACK to Jesse's house. Including, guess who? LEWIS. He left his party along with a few dozen of his guests and en masse, we all headed back to Jesse's where we finished off the evening.

In general, you knew most of the people at these parties. And those you didn't know were friends of friends who were cool. So you never minded it when the really drunk guys passed out on your couch. Nor did the guys who passed out on the couch feel guilty. Usually the end of a party resulted in every couch, bed and floor space being occupied, as well as those few people who were out around the bon fire until sun rise.

Sunrise was always best after you'd been partying all night. You've still got a little buzz on. You're sitting there on a lawn chair in front of the dying fire. You're face is toasty while the rest of you is kinda chilly. If you were lucky, you had a girlfriend or some chick who you'd gotten close with that night to huddle close to. By this point, it's about 5am, and you're sitting there with maybe 5 other people who haven't already left or passed out. Conversation has died down. Usually, one or two of the people out by the fire has even fallen asleep, and so it's usually only 2 or 3 out of 5 people who are actually talking. And even then, it's not rude if you just sit in silence for a few minutes. The sky starts to turn purple or orange about an hour before the sun comes up. The birds who had been quiet all night are just starting to get up and chirp and go about their daily routines. The music has been turned down or off completely. The night doesn't officially end until the sun actually breaks the horizon. That's when you just give a little sigh, because you know pretty soon it's going to get warmer and everything that had been asleep while you were partying is going to be awake. It's a little melancholy because, for a night, you were king. You were taking on the world while the rest of the world slept. And now, everything is waking up and you and back in with the general crowd.

And now that you need to start sobering up, there is no better morning after remedy than pancakes. God, these are my favorite memories of me and Jesse. No matter where we partied, we always ended up back at Jesse's where I'd usually crash on one of the couches and in the morning, whoever got up first would start mixing the batter. Pancakes (said: Ban-gakes). And of course you needed good hangover music. The Long December by Counting Crows was a good morning after song. I don't know why, it was just good. But the best hangover album was Pink Floyd's "Wish you Were Here." Man I remember after going to Jesse's prom after my freshman year of college. We went to the after party and then ended up back at Jesse's, me, him and our dates. In the morning after piling on the pancakes, we all just layed there in the middle of the living room, Alexa's head on my chest, holding hands and just letting the music carry you into oblivion. If you had nothing else to do that day, you'd just sleep it all off. Otherwise, you'd be up and at 'em and taking on the world. Until the next time when you'd do it all over again.