Pan-European parties are the greatest. This so called "Scan House"--short for Scandinavian--hosts no shortage of Americans, but our fellow countrymen and women are balanced by a smattering of foreigners, which leads to the exotic thrill of hearing Norwegian when eavesdropping. (Funny quotes we do understand, however, include but are not limited to, "I came to this country for the American girls!" and, "She's French, so she won't puke.") People are dancing, yelling, and not getting all up in our grill, which is good for a college party.

As the night goes on, we are treated to a tasteful nipple-piercing show and follow the mass exodus into the yard next door, which for some reason contains close to two-dozen Fisher-Price tricycles and little cars. Ten people jump the fence to race the peewee vehicles, and all eyes are on the one latecomer who gives a hilarious performance attempting to cross yards.

Later, in a stunning turn of events, Party Crasher's cover is blown! We are hauled up to the VIP room of the house (a bedroom), where the party-thrower assaults us with offers of pot and weird Scandinavian liquor, and then tells us how happy The Stranger's music listings make him. Thanks! We decide that this is the most fun party in months.

Want The Stranger to crash your house party? E-mail all the info, including the date, to partycrasher@thestranger.com.