One Night at the Frat Party
by Melissa Schmidt
(Photo from Eli Duke)
I was invited to a military fraternity party while living on campus at the University of Minnesota. My boyfriend and I decided to go, even though we weren't big into the party scene.
As an added bonus, the military frat house was a mere blocks from my apartment. My boyfriend's house was on the other side of campus but he usually crashed with me on the weekends.
We drank before heading over to the party because we were self-respecting college students. We got there and the party was in full raging swing.
People everywhere, boys hanging on girls, girls hanging on boys, and general mayhem. My boyfriend and I drank and chatted and found ourselves in the kitchen.
My boyfriend sat on the gas stove and proclaimed "I bet I can turn on the stove while I'm sitting on it!" Turns out, he could turn on a flame under his butt and manage to rocket himself off the stove as quickly as possible.
After nearly setting himself on fire, his only comment was "Thank God I didn't have to fart!"
This evening got better from there. My boyfriend and I worked our way upstairs to where the event rooms were. There was a central open staircase that reminded me of the movies; if you stood on the fourth floor and looked down you could see straight down the middle.
He went downstairs to grab me another drink and I waited. While I was waiting, I felt sick. Very sick. I happened to be by the stairs and so I leaned over and vomited right down the middle of the staircase.
I didn't think anything else of it. My boyfriend returns to me and says " Some girl downstairs had hair that was covered in vomit and is looking for the girl who puked down the stairs on her head!".
So my boyfriend and I exited the party as quickly as we could and still laugh about butts set on fire and four-story puke to this day, 13 years later.