Kevin and Samantha have been throwing luau parties at their house on Roosevelt for 10 years now. The decorations are amazing—they've pulled out all the stops for their 10th luau, combining all the previous themes (Space, Karaoke, Snakes on a Luau). Outside there's a huge spread of great food like kalua pork, with all the booze you could ask for. And I almost missed it all, mistakenly stumbling into a teenager party across the street.

Sometimes, for whatever reason, you're just not paying attention. You're looking for a party on Roosevelt, see a crowd of people, and join in. There's a solid rock/soul band called the Freetown covering Radiohead and Outkast, lots of pretty girls, and everyone's having a good time—what more could you ask for? Then you notice the giant fucking luau on the way to the corner store and realize you're an idiot.

Luckily, the result is fantastic—on one side of the street is the vitality of youth, pumping hiphop through blown-out speakers. On the other side is the wisdom of experience, belting out karaoke and indulging in life's finer things. For them to coexist, they must remain separate (the youngsters must not be allowed to come over and consume all the booze and pork, their bellies are endless); but when one is given the chance to hop back and forth between the two parties all night, one is afforded a rare chance to appreciate the full beauty of the party spectrum, and it is a thing of wonder.

Want to menacingly threaten The Stranger for bringing a funk guitarist into your party to scam some shots? E-mail the date, place, time, and party details to