"I was invited to this guy's party last year," the e-mail said, "and it was OFF THE HOOK!!!!" When I repeated this ringing endorsement over the phone to the party's host, there was a self-reflective pause. "Actually, he's right. My parties are pretty off the hook." Would that his parties were the only things off the hook.
My Plus One and I have been shivering at the apartment's front-door intercom for five minutes, buzzing futilely. Nobody's answering. The only thing we can determine is that the party is so loud that nobody can hear the door buzzer.
We go and get a pitcher at a normally great bar made repugnant by drunken fans fresh from a Bob Dylan concert—in the bathroom, one suit-wearing schmo, noticing the floor-level urine trough, exclaims, "All right! I can piss on the floor and it's, like, okay!"—and we return to the party's front door and buzz again. No response. We aren't exactly sure where to go from here. We'd never before failed in our mission, but without some serious mountain-climbing gear, this particular party's proving uncrashable.
Luckily, I'd received a last-minute invite to a homecoming-themed party at the Lo_Fi. What a great time. There are a bunch of folks dressed all high-school classy—corsages optional—posing for homecoming photos and flirting with one another. We see one of the best dance-alongs to "Tainted Love" ever. It's a super-cute scene, even with the obligatory loud drunks who work off their bad vibes by popping the decorative balloons. It's not a house party, but I sure feel at home here.
Want The Stranger to overhear the classy first-date line: "Now every time I get a DUI, I have to go see my toxicologist" at your house party? E-mail the date, place, time, and party details to email@example.com.