Nothing of Consequence
I did not very much want to attend the party in the first place. I was tired and in the mood for a cup of tea. I had worked outside for ten hours that day, enduring the hot and muggy Wisconsin summer. I had stayed up late the previous two nights, one due to a social situation, the other because I was wrapped up in a video game. As I drove toward the city, I could feel my expectations for the night decrease. I was forced to drive slowly because the car in front of me was going five miles under the limit. Each intersection arrived and then passed by with agonizing slowness. What was I really trying to gain from going to this party? Was I even going to enjoy it?
When I finally managed to drop the car off at my sister’s boyfriend’s apartment my expectations were almost rock bottom. I stepped out into the nighttime air and breathed deeply. I exhaled and relaxed, somewhat. I enjoy nighttime walks in the city. The party was at a friend’s apartment, on State Street. It was a birthday party. I adjusted the straps on my backpack and started moving. The journey was uneventful. A man walked across the street from me. “Yeah, I got shrooms, if you want them.” He was talking on his phone. “Yeah, I got some of that, too. Where you at?” I walked a couple more blocks, crossed some streets. “Brian? Is that you?” I looked up. “Yeah! It is you! How you been?” I had come across three former high school classmates. Where I had chosen to leave Madison and study in Minneapolis, they had chosen to stay. I paid my social dues and made polite small talk. They had nothing of consequence to offer. Neither did I. We soon parted ways.
The nightlife grew more active as I neared the address. Intoxicated people were wandering about, some people were leaving evening mass, and the odd group of sober people walking between restaurants. Standard Madison fare. State Street was especially busy. Very few cars drive on State Street, so entire crowds of people filled the area between the curbs. I had arrived at the address. I punched the doorbell. I was admitted.
I climbed a flight of steps and was greeted by a beer pong table. A group of sweaty men had congregated around the game. It was a close one. Both sides were down to one cup. I ignored the spectacle and ventured farther inside. I pushed through the crowd and farther into the complex. A wall of smoke and sound and heat pushed back. I entered the first room. All men. There was a big bucket of some orange liquid. People were ladling it into red cups. I walked through the next room. It was full of women, all looking about the age of sixteen. They danced in a tight group to some generic music. They were being observed by the men who were lining the walls. Uninterested, I dodged around the crowd into the third and final room. It was occupied by a stoner circle. They were all passing around their various pipes and bongs. A guy to my right was chatting up a girl. He seemed to be having some success. As I scanned the three rooms, I saw nobody that I knew. The birthday boy was nowhere to be found.
I reached into my backpack and pulled out a beer. If I was going to have to wait to give the man his gift, I might as well do it drinking. The I.P.A. was barely even cold. I grimaced. I had been chilling it for most of the day. Still, it was better than whatever slop was in that bucket.
Five minutes later, the birthday boy walked in. I handed him my gift. It was a flash drive that contained music from various Minneapolis-local artists. We both share an interest in music, so I figured it to be a suitable gift. He gave me a hug and a handshake and then darted off. His movements were sharp, like a squirrel’s. He was probably tripping on some type of psychedelic.
Already bored with the party, I started to make arrangements for my sister to give me a ride home. It would be around two hours before she could come. I sighed and swore under my breath. I opened another beer, this time a witbier. This one was just about room temperature. I looked up from my drink and saw some of my friends enter. We greeted each other. Some I had not seen since the last summer. We made small talk and exchanged notes. Nothing of consequence was shared. At one point, I heard someone talk about cops patrolling the area. I grabbed the nearest two of my friends and left the building. We decided to talk a walk around the area to cool off. One member of our trio, Wade, wanted to find the local chapter of his fraternity.
We walked off of State Street, toward the lake. We cut through some streets and ended up on frat row. At the end of the lane was a small beach. Wade asked for a beer, with an assurance he would pay me back. I assented. He popped the cap, took a swig, and stepped off to empty his bladder. I tried to make small talk with Laura, my other companion. I failed. Eventually silence took over and I stared out over the water. Why was I even in this place? I was not enjoying my night, I was losing sleep, and I had to work early tomorrow morning. I had even lost the desire to drink more. All I could think about was how much I hated this city. I bitterly regretted not buying cigarettes.
Wade returned from his excretory activities. We gave up looking for his fraternity and began our journey back to the party. On the way, we ran into a group of people we knew. They were also heading to the party. Gruffly, I engaged them in conversation. Not much of consequence was said. We soon arrived back on State Street. We found a group of party attendees loitering in front of the party’s entrance. I asked if anything had happened. Nothing of consequence had happened.
The party was just as noisy and even more crowded. I wandered around for several minutes before my sister sent me a message telling me to meet her at the street corner. I left the party and found her waiting for me. She asked me if anything interesting happened at the party. “Nothing of consequence” I replied. Thirty minutes later I was asleep in my bed.
