In honor of it being sorority recruitment nearly nationwide, I thought I’d share this nice little number…
It was the middle of January 2007 when our sorority hosted the first party that I was officially in charge of. I had been crash-course trained in how to handle unruly behavior during the former presidents final party, known as the infamous GI Joe & Barbie Mixer. I had to socially overcome my fears and politely ask the young lady in the white lab coat and red bra/panty set to please button up her coat; it didn’t reflect positively on the sorority. Shoot me.
The first party that I oversaw was theme-less, praise God, and there was none of this ‘Girls Gone Wild’ stunt work that I necessarily had to navigate around. I was set up with a date, a ‘great guy to take to an event like this’, as I was told by one of my best friends. She had dated him before and said he was fun-loving and independent- exactly what you need in a date you may/may not be leaving if things turn sour.
Since I didn’t actually plan the party, I had no idea what to expect at a venue that primarily served as a Hookah Bar; I wasn’t even sure we were allowed to party here. The minute I walked into the door, I was met by a new member relieving herself down her leg because she had lost all control of her faculties, no doubt from excessive alcohol consumption. A few nervous young girls stood around her, hoping not to get in trouble for the same offense, but genuinely concerned for their fellow friend. Within five minutes, she was on her way to the hospital in an ambulance, and my right hand girl (and her lucky date) went with her.
I got back to the party, where it was my job to continue to hold down the fort, regardless of the emergency that has just taken place. I had to snatch a few drinks from the underage crowd (yes- they tried it every time) and somehow I lost track of my date. The last time I had seen him, he was taking shots at the bar by himself. I, though 21, would never have a more sober year in my adult life; I was responsible for 150 bodies plus their dates plus all the mischievous things they could think up. I began asking if anyone had seen my date.
When it came time to pack up and go, I heralded people towards the buses. Each member of the sorority was required to ride the bus to and from all events. Convincing slightly-imbibed members to cooperate was a bit of a challenge. As I was sending the last of the group out of the bar, I noticed something rustling behind the curtains. When I got closer, I realized it was a person. Closer still, I realized it was my date.
He had been crying back there for the majority of the party. Apparently, he was not ‘over’ my friend, who had been actively falling in love with another man that night at the same event. Heartbroken and intoxicated, he had resolved to hiding away his sorrows. I was equally if not more embarrassed than he as I ushered him onto the bus. It was the kind of charter bus that has two short rows in the front that actually face each other. He sat on one side; I sat on the other. I’ll never forget hearing his shuddered sobbing the whole ride home, while my friend and her new passionate lover sat just a few rows back- kissing. I stifled laughter in disbelief of the sequence of events this first party already had to offer.
I made the bold assumption that there would be no second dates for us in the future.