Sunday, 24 October 2010

Viva Las Vegas.

Mount Holyoke is a very strange place. Put it this way: I've never lived anywhere where it's perfectly acceptable to wonder around in a sports bra and shorts. This was strange. What was stranger was that once Vegas Night rocked up it wandering round in underwear was somehow scandelously cool. I shall try to explain.

Last weekend was Vegas Night. Rumours about the party had been building and becoming slowly more and more insane as the weeks progressed. I heard it was the second biggest party on the Playboy College party list. I heard guys come from California. I heard they closed down two Emergency rooms to accomodate us. I heard last year someone let loose a lion... and so on and so forth. (Some of these rumours may or may not have been made up by me...)

So finally the night rocks round. And other than that the DJ was even worse than the ones we have, it was essentially like a glorified Club D type job. Except not in a school cafeteria, which I always think is part of the Derwent party charm. Same frenetic pre-drinking, same drunken revelry, same copious vomiting. (Not, I hasten to add on my part.) Same old same old. The main difference was that American men are very predatory. I'm sure we too have very predatory men, but I have never in England encountered men with such an inability to understand the word no. It's pretty crazy. 

The other thing I noticed was the inability of many of my colleages to hold their drink. I looked down my nose at them in a very British type way. I assume that it was because of America's ridiculously high drinking age. I say ridiculously high because realistically when all these kids leave their homes and go out into the big wide world there is no one to stop them drinking. No one is checking on them any longer, so whilst they can't legally go out and buy a drink, there really isn't anything stopping them drinking in general. They just haven't got the practice under their belts that we British have. And whilst I suppose their three-drink-and-then-they're-out is both cheaper and potentially better for their liver than my former house-mates' antics, I don't think it's hugely healthy either. And so the debate on legal drinking ages continues.

It was a lovely night though, but potentially one of those where the getting ready to go out, getting dressed up, taking pictures in our fancy dress outfits etc. was more fun than the night itself. Still we did have rather alot of fun. And I now have a fruitbowl filled with a feather boa, and really, who's life is complete without a bowlful of feathers?

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