ACF Aftermath
I was woken up by cheering from atop of Gage Towers this morning.
I recognized that resonance of merry inebriated mirth, but was surprised it was so loud that it came all the way from Gage. I was even more surprised that the hoopla came so early in the day, when everyone is supposed to be at school.
Then the epiphany dawned upon me that today there is no school because it's he annual Arts County Fair, a huge outdoor concert held at the Thunderbird Stadium featuring homegrown bands and alcohol. Lots of it. As a regular student, I would have had this day marked on my calendar the moment the date was announced, but since my undertgrad days are long gone, it's just not that exciting anymore because I've done it all.
Besides, having names such as Pride Tiger and DJmy!gay!husband! in the performance lineup doesn't really give me much further incentive to go.
Besides the concert itself, this event is marked with the monopolization of alcohol sales by the sponsor brewery, whose product tastes suitably watered-down for a sports stadium venue. This has in turn brought out the creativity of the students towards, shall we say, the breaking of that monopoly.
My friends usually just put a small hole in a juice box or open the box along one of its seams, drain the juice out, and replace the contents with their favorite alcoholic beverage before resealing the box. After all, since non-alcoholic drinks are not prohibited, the security at the gate would not ask you to open your juice to check.
However, I've heard that some people go as far as sneaking into the stadium in the middle of the night, shortly before the event, and digging a small hole in the hills surrounding the field, burying their alcohol, then covering it back up with the divot they just took out. They would then mark their alcoholic cache by the number of steps downhill from a landmark on top, such as the second brick from the ticketing entrance, or say the fifth fencepost from a certain tree.
With so much alcohol on premises, you'd know that crazy drunken debauchery will be a highlight of ACF. You'd also know that no matter how many port-a-potties they set up, it will never be sufficient to handle the onslaught of people having to pee at any given moment. That's why the preferred urinal is the chain link fence atop the hills surrounding the field - for both boys and girls alike. Unfortunately, the sheer volume of urine generated by the sheer volume of people always turns the soil at the base of the fence into urine mud. Even less fortunate for the people who engage in fights in that area, probably over pissing space or accidental cross-streaming of pee, as they usually end up rolling in that urine mud.
If that isn't enough violence for you, then you can check out the mosh pit just in front of the stage, where people regularly emerge in a bloody mess that makes raw hamburger meat look like a block of tofu. As for me, I preferred to sit and watch from my home camp on the hills, while further down, some incapacitated jackass stripped down naked to everyone's cheering, only to have his audience turn on him by throwing beer at the buck-naked guy as security hauls him away.
So knowing the crazy times that my roommates would go through, I shut myself in my hole and braced for the chaos to come when my roommates come stumbling back from the event.
When I finally emerged to see what damage my roommates have wrought after they have swaggered and verbally slurred their way home and settled down, I was surprised to see that things weren't that bad. I guess it helped that the Community Coordinator gave them a lecture, when he came in to bail me out of locking my own keys in my room. Coming to think of it, I should've locked myself out on purpose long ago to tactfully bring up this issue without being a ratting goody two-shoes. I was impressed...
...until I went to the bathroom and found beer bottles in the shower. Not only that, but I've noticed a sudden drop in my shampoo supply, a freakin' 1.18L family size. I don't mind my roommates using some of my stuff, so long as they ask and I don't tell them to fuck off. If only I could procure some radiotherapy drugs to use as an additive to expose their culpability with tell-tale baldness.
At least it wasn't as bad as last night, when I was going to brush my teeth and noticed the corner of a condom wrapper lying next to my toothbrush and toothpaste. I guess I should be grateful that whoever it was had enough modesty to not display the spent contraceptive there for all to see as a trophy of his sexual conquest. (But then again, such a trophy could be generated without 2nd party assistance...) Thus, I should also be grateful that I didn't have to boil or throw away my dental hygiene implements.
Sadly, I can't be glad that this kind of event happens only once a year, because this kind of shit happens more often than that.
I recognized that resonance of merry inebriated mirth, but was surprised it was so loud that it came all the way from Gage. I was even more surprised that the hoopla came so early in the day, when everyone is supposed to be at school.
Then the epiphany dawned upon me that today there is no school because it's he annual Arts County Fair, a huge outdoor concert held at the Thunderbird Stadium featuring homegrown bands and alcohol. Lots of it. As a regular student, I would have had this day marked on my calendar the moment the date was announced, but since my undertgrad days are long gone, it's just not that exciting anymore because I've done it all.
Besides, having names such as Pride Tiger and DJmy!gay!husband! in the performance lineup doesn't really give me much further incentive to go.
Besides the concert itself, this event is marked with the monopolization of alcohol sales by the sponsor brewery, whose product tastes suitably watered-down for a sports stadium venue. This has in turn brought out the creativity of the students towards, shall we say, the breaking of that monopoly.
My friends usually just put a small hole in a juice box or open the box along one of its seams, drain the juice out, and replace the contents with their favorite alcoholic beverage before resealing the box. After all, since non-alcoholic drinks are not prohibited, the security at the gate would not ask you to open your juice to check.
However, I've heard that some people go as far as sneaking into the stadium in the middle of the night, shortly before the event, and digging a small hole in the hills surrounding the field, burying their alcohol, then covering it back up with the divot they just took out. They would then mark their alcoholic cache by the number of steps downhill from a landmark on top, such as the second brick from the ticketing entrance, or say the fifth fencepost from a certain tree.
With so much alcohol on premises, you'd know that crazy drunken debauchery will be a highlight of ACF. You'd also know that no matter how many port-a-potties they set up, it will never be sufficient to handle the onslaught of people having to pee at any given moment. That's why the preferred urinal is the chain link fence atop the hills surrounding the field - for both boys and girls alike. Unfortunately, the sheer volume of urine generated by the sheer volume of people always turns the soil at the base of the fence into urine mud. Even less fortunate for the people who engage in fights in that area, probably over pissing space or accidental cross-streaming of pee, as they usually end up rolling in that urine mud.
If that isn't enough violence for you, then you can check out the mosh pit just in front of the stage, where people regularly emerge in a bloody mess that makes raw hamburger meat look like a block of tofu. As for me, I preferred to sit and watch from my home camp on the hills, while further down, some incapacitated jackass stripped down naked to everyone's cheering, only to have his audience turn on him by throwing beer at the buck-naked guy as security hauls him away.
So knowing the crazy times that my roommates would go through, I shut myself in my hole and braced for the chaos to come when my roommates come stumbling back from the event.
When I finally emerged to see what damage my roommates have wrought after they have swaggered and verbally slurred their way home and settled down, I was surprised to see that things weren't that bad. I guess it helped that the Community Coordinator gave them a lecture, when he came in to bail me out of locking my own keys in my room. Coming to think of it, I should've locked myself out on purpose long ago to tactfully bring up this issue without being a ratting goody two-shoes. I was impressed...
...until I went to the bathroom and found beer bottles in the shower. Not only that, but I've noticed a sudden drop in my shampoo supply, a freakin' 1.18L family size. I don't mind my roommates using some of my stuff, so long as they ask and I don't tell them to fuck off. If only I could procure some radiotherapy drugs to use as an additive to expose their culpability with tell-tale baldness.
At least it wasn't as bad as last night, when I was going to brush my teeth and noticed the corner of a condom wrapper lying next to my toothbrush and toothpaste. I guess I should be grateful that whoever it was had enough modesty to not display the spent contraceptive there for all to see as a trophy of his sexual conquest. (But then again, such a trophy could be generated without 2nd party assistance...) Thus, I should also be grateful that I didn't have to boil or throw away my dental hygiene implements.
Sadly, I can't be glad that this kind of event happens only once a year, because this kind of shit happens more often than that.
posted by Cosmic Ocean at 2:12 AM
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