It was my sophomore year of college; I had recently stopped playing baseball, and truly come into my own insofar as a gentleman of leisure/party extraordinaire. My parents were visiting from Michigan on their way to their beach condo in Hilton Head, SC. In honor of their visit on this random March weekend, I decided to throw a kickass party. While I may not remember my parents birthdays, I most definitely know how to show them a good time.
March in North Carolina was beautiful, so naturally, a pool party only seemed appropriate. I borrowed my good friend’s inflatable pool that they had previously used in a superb pool party of their own. The pool of course, went in the kitchen. For added ambiance myself and a few assistants filled trash bags with sand from the campus volleyball court, pouring it down on the kitchen floor for the pool to rest on.
Filling the pool was by far the most arduous pre-party task. Being as I lived in campus apartments, kegs were prohibited; I’ve never been big on “rules” however, so I bought one, while my awesome parents threw down for the second. Filling the pool went a little like this: bath tub running with crock pot filling underneath; kitchen sink running with bucket underneath; on a continuous cycle I would empty the respected receptacles in the pool, return them to their filling stations, with just enough time for a beer from the keg in-between. All in all the process took about three hours; before the first guest arrived I had a pretty good head start on my carbo-loading for the day/night-event.
In addition to the pool, I purchased and setup a “slip-n-slide” in the lawn outside, easily accessible through our living room windows. The party was well attended; my parents got hammered playing beer pong and getting better acquainted with my eclectic of friends. There was a general misconception that it was my birthday, because certainly nobody would throw such an excellent party unless it was their birthday; amateurs. My apartment was in the “fraternity apartments”, although I most definitely was not in a frat, although both my roommates would eventually be. While some of the cooler members of said frats enjoyed the party, others sneered in discontent: “who does this kid think he is? Having a kickass pool party on a Sunday in our fraternity apartments.. why I oughta..”
To be fair I must admit that I was the only one to use the pool; it was still fantastic; the slip-n-slide attracted a few more customers as it was outside on the lawn. My parents eventually passed out in my bedroom but that did not stop us from ripping gravity bongs in their presence; they are some heavy sleepers; I actually once recorded their snoring with a video on my phone entitled “Battle Snores”; it wasn’t to mean; rather to have evidence for why I wouldn’t sleep a wink that particular night in Connecticut.
As the evening was coming to a close we decided it best to empty the pool; our tactics would land me with a $1,500 bill from resulting water damage. Our apartment was on the first floor that opened into a cemented breezeway; my good friend and eventual roommate dragged the pool as close to the door as possible; then proceeded to grab the corner furthers from the door and empty the pool into like a flooding damn into the breezeway. While I can’t say it was the optimal method for draining, it was quick, and relatively successful. A lasting odor from presumably mold occupied our apartment for the remaining two months of my sophomore year. I actually still owe a debt collector for this fine day/night swareh; get in line sir.