This is a sordid tale of debauchery and insanity. Okay, maybe it's not that bad but it was pretty crazy. The year was... uh... 2013? Yeah, that sounds about right. I was studying in Japan and I think it was some time in October. Now, during the Fall semester I was a good girl. I walked around town like a tourist, tried to take as much of the culture in as possible and rarely went to any parties. I'm not a big party girl anyway and it was a new country, new people, new everything - I just didn't feel comfortable going to parties with people I hardly knew. Still, once I started warming up to everyone I felt that I should put in more of an effort to connect to people and socialize. So when someone brought up the idea of going to KC bar for a night out, I decided to join.
I had no idea what or where KC bar was or why it was so important but it seemed as if almost everyone was going and I felt I would regret passing it up. So when the day finally arrived I slipped on my little black dress (yes, the one with the zipper in the front), put on my red high heels (that I'd never worn before) and headed to the rooftop to hang out with the others and have a few drinks. I realized soon enough that wearing new shoes had been a giant mistake because they kept coming off and were not very easy to walk in but I'd already committed to it and was too proud to change.
The first hour passed in a blur. I realized I was tipsy but I wasn't flat out drunk. I could still hold my balance while standing up and knew what was going on around me. After a while I decided to go dancing, squeezing through a mass of people to find a spot on the dance floor. It was pretty much impossible. The club was so small and there were way too many people around so that at first I ended up squished against the wall, almost unable to move. I decided to find another spot. I joined a group of friends and started dancing, certain I'd found a suitable spot. But as more people joined I ended up inching backwards bit by bit until I realized that I was dancing while basically sitting on a table at the same time. I was so far up that only one leg reached the floor. Time to move again.
My third attempt at dancing worked out great at first. I tried to find a spot in the middle of the dance floor and succeeded... until someone decided that it was a great idea to gather a bunch of people and put a hula hoop (that Mary had brought from home) around the whole group... and dance like that. I didn't want to be a part of the hula hoop group so I ended up getting pushed to the side of the room again. At first I didn't mind. The music was great, I was feeling the beat and I had a little bit of room to work with. But for some strange reason I kept getting pulled backwards and I felt like there was someone behind me. That couldn't be, though: I was right against the couch that was lining the wall... Oh... wait...
I turned around only to find that I'd been involuntarily giving a lap dance to some random Japanese guy sitting on the couch. He looked like he'd been enjoying himself but I felt awkward (and slightly violated) nonetheless. It was time to move again... and this time I felt like I needed a breath of fresh air. I headed out into the corridor only to almost stumble on a girl laying on the ground, barely moving. The small sober part of my brain was worried. Was she even alive? She was on her side, facing the wall and there were two other exchange students around her, trying to get her up. A part of me felt like I should help... and another part said I was too drunk to do anything even remotely helpful. I would just get in the way. And besides, there was already someone else pulling me toward the elevator, making it much easier to decide what to do.
A moment later I was outside. The air was nice and cool and I could finally move freely again. I was out of the stuffy loud hell that was the bar. I mean, it was nice and all but I could already feel myself getting tired of the loud noise, the smell of cigarettes and all of the sweaty people rubbing against me. I was enjoying some peace and fresh air when Mary came down as well, holding her broken-looking hula hoop and looking pretty broken herself. Apparently her LED hula hoop had cost quite the pretty penny and those drunk bastards in the club had basically broken it. She was desperately trying to put it back together but it just wasn't happening and she was pretty devastated.
As I was trying to think of ways to comfort her, a large portion of our group started to shuffle out of the club. Apparently the party was over: the drinks had stopped coming and it was time to head home. Sadly, not all of us were in the condition to take the train. I saw one of our tallest male exchange students carried out between two small girls with a plastic bag in front of his face, hanging on to his ears like a feeding bag for horses. He got shoved into a taxi with the girls. And the girl who was passed out in the hallway? She got carried out over someone's shoulder, all while her friend was cursing, scratching and biting the ones trying to help her. Or was she the one doing the biting? Anyway, as I found out later, one of the girls managed to leave teeth marks on one guy's arm and the other one's chest... She made up for it later though by taking everyone who had helped her out to dinner.
Compared to a lot of others, I actually felt like I was doing ok. I joined the group heading for the last train and got home safe and sound, all on my own... or well, I was kind of holding on to Alicea in the subway but that was mostly because it had become really difficult to walk in my heels. The next morning we discovered that by some miracle everyone had made it home safe and sound and no one had gotten alcohol poisoning. And Mary had even managed to repair her hula hoop, using a pair of chopsticks. Sure, some of us had thrown up on the way home and someone put their phone into their mailbox. But hey, nobody needed to be taken to the hospital! And we were all still friends. Even the people involved in the biting-incident. Moral of the story is: never give exchange students access to unlimited alcohol. Especially tequila. They just don't know how to hold back. But also: giving exchange students access to unlimited alcohol makes for a pretty memorable night.
We went to the same bar one other time. Was it as crazy as the first time? Well... not really. No one needed a plastic bag strapped to their face after leaving... but someone did lose their scarf that magically appeared in a playground the next day. But that's a story for another day.
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