Photo: Creative Commons via shoseph
In the spirit of Homecoming, relive your glory days—of last weekend that is. We’ll help you take a walk down memory lane and fill in the blanks of your blackout night. Last week’s tomfoolery includes flying sorority girls, Nalgenes of Malibu, and one sleepy frat boy’s father, after the jump.
Thursday night: ‘Reasons to Party’ Party
Bachelorettes, birthday boys, and escaped prisoners stumble into buses to celebrate just having sex, snow days, and Easter. As soon as the ride makes it to Debonair Social Club downtown, sorority girls and crushes split in all directions on the street, searching for a bathroom. Inside the club, every inch from couches to walls becomes a dance floor. One girl launches herself across a table while another gets her nose ring bitten. Things get dirty as people get down to an Ellie Goulding dubstep remix and “Super Bass.” If a bouncer hasn’t already thrown you out of the party, you get to load a bus with an angry driver shouting “Hell no! This bus is not stopping at the Deuce!”
Thursday night: Booty shaking and face planting
In what appears to be any fratstar’s wildest dream, the ladies far outnumber the guys at this Thursday night soiree. Almost every sorority is represented. Most people congregate upstairs, crowding the halls in search of a drink but the party rages on in the steamy basement where a smattering of undergrads dance their heart out. The worst part of the night: The loss of the infamous table so well-loved by the drunk girls who like to be seen by all while shaking their asses. But fear not, one inventive partygoer makes her own stage, dancing on top of a chair only to fall on the ground.
Friday night: A “Thank God we didn’t get evicted because of the Brothel Law” Birthday Bash
When a Brothel inspection by Evanston authorities doesn’t end in 9 homeless undergrad students, the residents decide that a celebration is in order—not to mention the fact that one of them conveniently has a birthday that Friday. While the party is relatively low-key, we have to admire the presentation of snacks arranged as a centerpiece rather than the booze. Salsa and chips go a long way when we have the drunchies.
Friday Night: Thanks, but no thanks
After weeks of swarmed on and off-campus frat houses, you’d think one with some room to breathe would be a breath of fresh air—quite literally. But this small off-campus party hosted by our favorite tacky frat is just downright awkward. Freshmen congregate in one room while a group of senior fratstars segregate themselves from the rest of the party and play beer pong in an adjoining room. Not prepared to be one of the bros or engage in freshmen small talk, we opt for the door.
Friday night: Champagne Showers with the Elderly
One bedroom in an on-campus frat house hosts a small gathering of fifteen people and ten bottles of André. One fratstar’s father joins in on the games of pong and flip cup and then promptly takes a nap to the soothing sounds of “Teach Me How to Dougie” in the adjoining room… that is, until he awakes to a drunk girl poking him in the head. Liquor is flowing and champagne bottles are clankin’ all night. Meanwhile two people take a timeout on the couch to reminisce about their childhood aspirations of being a piece of paper.
Friday night: Black outs and black lights
Set in the upscale apartments of Park Evanston, a fundrager for a local dance competition markets blackout nights as the theme, as if we needed an excuse to torture our liver with $2 shots. While the organizers get no points for creativity (black lights? Been there.), we can’t help but excuse them since black lights and highlighters do in fact make a party feel much more like a party. Why reinvent the wheel? When the police make their rounds everyone’s already out, but we think the real miracle was that the living room’s lush carpets were protected by flattened cardboard boxes put down with glow in the dark duct tape. But that didn’t stop one grad student from wandering in to a bedroom and vomiting everywhere.
Friday night: Apartment on Noyes
The miniscule apartment, despite efforts to fully drunk-proof the space, was clearly unprepared for the pack of sober students that flooded in for a pregame. The almost constant ringing of the doorbell acted as the background music while Jell-O shots and Skittles vodka, prepared laboriously for an hour the night before, were gone in the first 20 minutes. Thankfully, upperclassmen saved the day when they appeared with backpacks filled with handles of cheap vodka. Then Nalgene bottles were filled with Malibu before heading off to the drumline serenade for a night of drunken make outs and blackouts.
Saturday Night: Defining Moments
Northwestern’s hipsters came out of the woodwork in full force Saturday night to celebrate a slew of 22nd birthdays. Decked out in their best plaid and prescription-less glasses, partygoers spend the night downing PBR, the obvious drink of choice. Most undergrads mingle in the long hallway, while a handful of guests spend the night in a self-proclaimed dance party in a corner room. And by dance party we mean bobbing your head to the beat while ironically flailing your arms. Cute.
Saturday Night: Intel gets sloppy
A group of thirsty journalists used their hard earned Google ad money to stock up on booze. After multiple rounds of shots, an impromptu performance by an aspiring Indian rapper and an abnormally enthusiastic conga line, multiple blackouts occurred. Beers were shot gunned and when the drank ran out, wasted partygoers almost turned to highlighter fluid. A typical walk down Sherman turned into a vogueing-sashaying catwalk to The Keg. Upon the nights end, partygoers either got locked out or blacked out.
Saturday Night: TKOE
Our favorite local dive bar wasn’t just swarming with scantily-dressed sorostitutes and frat bros. No, we had the pleasure of bumping elbows with a larger-than-usual middle-age crowd. Wait, so you’re old enough to be our parents and choose to spend your night at TKOE? You might wanna reevaluate your life decisions. Yes, we know it’s Homecoming, but reliving your glory days doesn’t mean heading to a bar where it’s generally unacceptable to be 21-plus. Luckily, the older crowd steers clear of the dance floor and allows for the sweaty sociological experiment in natural selection to go about as usual.
