Friday night, our house saw possibly one of the biggest ragers to happen here this year. It was Young Wesley’s birthday party, and it was quite the celebration. Tons of people (some friends, but mostly friends of friends and randoms) showed up at the house ready to party. We got Wesley a bottle of cake flavored vodka and melted candles to the top, then lit them while everyone sang him happy birthday. Wesley’s friend also got a DJ to play on our balcony, complete with lasers. The DJ (who was absolutely terrible) blew a fuse after the first half an hour he played, and then came storming into the garage telling us we didn’t know how to work our own circuit breaker.
The party raged on as people climbed onto our kitchen counters to dance. Randoms continued to flow in and the DJ continued to suck. His set up was so bad that people kept tripping over his cords and cutting the music every ten minutes. When midnight rolled around and the DJ didn’t stop playing, Nala told him to shut it off so that we wouldn’t get another noise violation. He had agreed earlier to turn off the music on time, but once it actually came time to do so, he didn’t follow through. It took a little bit of angry convincing on Nala’s part to get him to quit, but then the crowd cheered for more. After a few minutes, the DJ turned it back on, and promptly got an earful from Nala. Finally, he stopped, but continued to act like a jerk on his way out, pushing and shoving us as he took his gear to the door.
A lack of music didn’t stop people from partying, but they did begin to get unruly. A couple of small fights broke out on the stairs as the rest of the party clamored to get a glimpse of it. Then another girl followed by a small posse, ran up the stairs claiming that she was called by someone to fight there. She yelled repeatedly that the other girl must be too scared to face her before Travis kicked her and the other angry drunks out.
Inevitably, our house was trashed after all of this. Every bathroom had broken glass on the counters. Red cups and litter were strewn about, but that was nothing compared to the vomit on the windowsill of the upstairs bathroom. We even found hot pink lipstick marks all over the shower — as if some drunken girl decided it would be a good idea to kiss the definitely dirty shower walls. The next morning, I opened the door to the downstairs bathroom only to discover our flowers had been pulled out of their vase and thrown on the shower floor, along with gobs of hair gel all over. I heard later that people deliberately tried to destroy everything bathroom in our house, but I have no idea why.