There I was, feeling fabulous as hell in my brand new outfit and heels as I bobbed my head in sync with the EDM that swept the dance floor. I remember closing my eyes and jumping up and down when the beat dropped, feeling absolutely amazing as I let the exhilarating energy around me sweep me off my feet.
I look up through my fuzzy vision (because I refuse to wear contact lenses, there is something purely disturbing about having to touch one’s eyeball) to find a silicone like figure being thrown into the crowd. It looked like a balloon, so I assumed that it was well.. a balloon. You can imagine my surprise when the disorientated helium looking figure that landed in front of me turned out to be a blow-up doll. There it lay face down ass up in all its glory. I was obviously mortified and before I could register what just happened, some twelvie decided it would be a good idea to get on top of the thing and dry hump it.
I’m the type of person who laughs her way through almost everything and anything in life. The wrinkles on your forehead as a result of too much stress are simply not worth it. As a result I burst into a fit of giggles as I watched the doll crowd surf its way across the room. So as I danced my stress away a first year challenged my friend and I to a game of beer pong with about 50 dollars on the table. Now my sober self would never in a million years have agreed to this (trust me I can’t gamble even if my life depended on it, I tried it when we went to Star City and I almost passed out when I saw my mate put a 100 on the table) but the vodka sunrise did all the talking for me that night.
So I looked that first year fresher in the eye with a look that clearly meant ‘go hard or go home ’ or something along those lines. Man was I determined to win some money that night. However I believe there is something you as my readers need to know, and that is that beer pong is f**king hard! . The ball has to bounce off the table at the right angle to make it into the designated cup. Now I know what you all are thinking, how is it possible for a former engineer who is supposed to be able to crunch numbers in her sleep not able to use basic trigonometry to win a game of beer pong?
I’ll let you in on a secret though. I suck at maths. Always have. However there I was amidst a crowd of sweaty and over excited college students trying to kick this fresher’s ass cause my reputation was at stake. And when it came down to the final cup the atmosphere got so tense you could cut a slice and eat it for desert. In my head I was trying very hard to focus by regulating my breathing and busting out some cool dance moves to Prince’s song ‘ Fall In Love 2Nite’ both of which were doing me no good.
I had one last chance and when the ball bounced off the table at precisely 40 degrees (due to my rather precise calculation skills) I thought I almost had a chance at winning. But I guess the fresher must’ve conducted some weird voodoo in his head or something because the ball bounced off the lip of the cup resulting in my loss. It didn’t feel like a loss though. In my head I already felt like a winner. I guess that’s the thing about being an optimist we always try to make the best out of a shitty situation.
So as the night went on and the excitement continued, I grabbed my friends and decided to Dora the explore the rest of the place, which was precisely when I stumbled across my childhood. There it was in all its glory. A big, fat, red, bouncy castle.
As a kid I have always loved bouncy castles and am proud to say that as an adult it is still one of my favourites. I mean what’s not to love about being suspended in mid-air for a couple of milliseconds before you descend back down to reality. So after I was successfully able reclaim 10 minutes of my childhood back we waddled our rather sore behinds back to the dance floor.
Now we all know like all good things in life the intoxicated high that follows 4 alcohol shots must also come to an end. I remember bobbing my head in sync to the music when out of nowhere I felt a sharp pain shoot up my left leg causing me to collapse on the floor rather dramatically. I remember thinking I was way too young to die I mean I hadn’t fulfilled my lifelong dream of living in a fully established upper east side Manhattan apartment. Unfortunately for me I have always been a bit delayed when it comes to realising things. Moments after I had my quarterly life crisis I also realised that the symptoms of a heart attack consist of shooting pains down your left arm, not your left leg.
So let out a nervous laugh, cracked a not so funny joke to divert my audience’s attention and quickly attempted to get back on my own two feet. As the mystical haze of alcohol slowly started to subdue I suddenly felt incredibly old. As I looked around I saw young girls and boy huddled together like a bunch of groupies trying their absolute best to fit in. Looking at them I suddenly remembered how naïve and determined I was during my first and second year of college. As I would make it my sole mission to go to the best university parties every week even if it resulted in last minute cramming for exams.
Now I know some of my readers are going to shake their heads and roll their eyes due to pure sarcasm at the fact that I am claiming to be old at the prime age of 21, so let me clear a few things. The reason why I decided to write this blog post in the first place was because that night I had a legitimate panic attack, thinking that I was growing up too quickly and no longer enjoyed late night clubbing served with a side of dirty dancing.
However I quickly realised that I wasn’t really getting old, my taste buds were simply developing to help me appreciate the finer things in life. I realised that whilst I didn’t necessarily have the patience to put up with random blow up dolls being thrown into the crowd, I did enjoy a casual and rather entertaining night at Sydney’s Opera bar.
There is something so magical about sipping a glass of chardonnay under a cluster of stars, with perfect jazz music to compliment the night. I guess I left the party early that night. Something I hadn’t done in ages, and the funny thing was I didn’t feel angry or upset if I’m being truthful. I felt a sense of relief. I was growing up at my own pace and there was no better feeling than being able to make it past your confusing teen years and finally being able to figure out who you are as a person.
Ps: as I was walking out a saw a really adorable midget. I guess my university really did take their project x frat parties seriously.