Why?

Why?

(Note: There are events from Friday night that this post discusses in the most abstract of terms. If you're looking for the straight up log of last night's events, I'm afraid you might have to look elsewhere. All we sell here is smoke, mirrors, and hyperbole.)

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I spent about an hour in the bathroom last night. Now, don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining about why I was in the bathroom, which is not what you might think considering it was a Friday night. It's that I only just heard about the length of time I was in there. While I was in there, it just seemed like fifteen or twenty minutes. I was confused about why people kept "checking up on me" in there...and now I should probably explain that I was in there for standard friend duties and not because I was feeling sick.

You have to understand that I was not expecting what hit me last night. After the early part of the evening, I was expecting to come home early, get a good night's rest, and (probably) be sober as sober when I went to sleep. I spent the early part of the night watching a movie, playing cards, and drinking a skunky beer (which is all I could handle on the beer front after that). Then there was the radio station.

It's hard to say what exactly happened and where everything went wrong. Things started well and fine. The show started uneventfully, which reinforced my theory that the night would progress in the same fashion as it had previous to my arrival at the radio station. Cue the arrival of an army of intoxicated (or well on their way) college age students. I specify the age of the people because they (well, we) can drink more, harder, and with greater voracity than any normal human being. So, they showed up, and they showed up in top form.

One person aptly described last night as a real live Robert Altman film. A truer statement has never been spoken. There were people in nearly every room of the station last night, each room with at least three people with each room having up to four conversations that were independent of one another. If you stood in the right places, you were the fucking FBI surveillance unit. Then there was the drama.

Part of the drama was why I spent an hour in the bathroom. There are times when a party/radio station gets wild enough that you end up in the bathroom, listening. We've all been in the situation, so I'll leave it to your imaginations as to what was discussed. After an hour, the parties involved came out feeling a lot better than when we went in there. Well, I did at least. I hope the other party (of the first part) felt a lot better, too. So, coming out of the bathroom feeling so fresh and so clean, I went forth to take care of business--that is to say, drink. Then the rumor circulated.

Yes. A rumor. A fiction started on one side of the station, quickly made its way around two right corners into the booth, causing every person in the booth to stampede to verify the unbelievable contents of the rumor. It was hard to say what exactly happened when we all arrived "on the scene," so to speak. There was something akin to mass hysteria. Some say it was a saucer, others saw an experimental jet, but the parties involved insisted that it was simply atmospheric gases reflecting off a bog.

After everyone had settled down and discussed (read:gossiped) about THE EVENT, the parties involved came out and assured us that nothing happened. Everything was fine. Nothing. Happened. I, for one, said okay. Nothing happened. But I guess we'll never really know what happened that night and, frankly, I'm fine with that.

The rest of the night proceeded in the same fashion. Some of the station staff members showed up at the staton sloshed. Well, many of the station staff members showed up sloshed. Further chaos ensued, but I'm wondering if you can still can call it chaos if chaos has become the standard.

It's getting to be where I can't leave my apartment without shit and fans, which is why I'm staying in tonight. If you'd like to avoid commotion and cold tonight, give me a call. It'll be good, clean, quiet fun.