It has been two years since I have been to Morgantown. I would say those two years were necessary to detox from the liver damage that I caused in that town during and for the first couple of years after college. Don't get me wrong, Motown has more to offer than booze, but honestly, I never really tried to find out what.
This past weekend, I packed up the mom car, filled the gas tank, and headed North to the land of blue and gold. I had mixed feelings going into the weekend. I was headed there for a wedding and excited to celebrate with the bride and groom. In the same respect, I knew the celebration would be full of old faces, many of which had played tonsil hockey with mine. Sorority-Frat weddings are the ultimate spot for reuniting with old flings, hooking up with new ones, and making very bad decisions. This wasn't my first rodeo so I was coming in prepared. I had no desire to wear my blackout face.
The wedding was beautiful and I was excited to head to the reception. I wanted to drop off my car and get a ride to the reception, and Danielle kindly offered to help me out. Of course, picking a wild woman as my chauffeur there was maybe a bad idea since she thought we should pregame for the event. I was proud of myself when I turned down a cocktail and stuck to a beer before we went on to the venue. Arriving at the reception, I decided I would allow myself a maximum of three glasses of wine. This was even further confirmed when I was seated next to Jenna (at whom's wedding I may have blacked out and hooked up with a groomsman). Pacing myself was key. I was on track. That is until Cory (aka the love of my life in college) introduced me to his WIFE. And enter chugging a glass of wine. Much better now...
The night went on and I actually remained fairly well behaved. The reception ended with some sorority shenanigans but overall, I was happy with my actions and ready to head downtown. I called a cab. Busy signal. Over and over. Shit. So when I saw frat boys heading to truck, I asked if they would give me a lift. I should have known it was trouble when they said yes. We got downtown and met up with Megan and the shots began. I was amazed at how cheap it was. I ordered a beer and two shots and the girl told me I didn't have the $10 minimum to close my tab. Um, what?! Okay, I'll buy more booze! Seriously. Not. Necessary. Then the frattys started buying shots. And then I made out with a random boy in the bar. The class I have never ceases to amaze me. Turns out the "rando" is a former Sigmachi and is also from Meg's hometown. So that sort of makes it okay? Urrrr...
The next morning, we woke up surprised that we were not hung over. Just tired -probably because I insisted on ordering DP Dough (aka the most disgusting thing ever when sober but good Lord is is delicious when you are drunk!), which wasn't delivered until 4am. Our day included a pit stop at good old 265 and meeting all the baby Kappa girls. I told them stories of debauchery in the KKG-unit. They told me about parent date party that night. Which in turn told me exactly what we'd be doing later.
Saturday night, Meg and I decided that we should probably have a drink or two at the location where these lovely young ladies were having this event. Luckily, some friends were chaperoning so we were able to also pull it off as visiting them. We sat. Drank wine. And proceeded to judge every single one of them. We decided who was the new version of us and all of our friends. It was glorious. So was the next glass of wine. And then we went downtown.
I didn't remember being tipsy when we headed downtown, but judging from where things get blurry, I would venture to say that I was. We scooped up a couple other sisters and hit up a bar. Beers and tequila shots all around. And gossip. Lots of gossip. Now onto the next bar. Scooping up a few more girls. I'd love to know what I bought there with the $50 I spent. Oh well. Photo session time - sorority pose. And in walks the guy - Gus - who I'd made out with the night before. Perfect. Now on to the next bar; come along Gus.
Our final bar of the night was my old stomping ground. Backdoor. Evidently, it isn't that cool anymore but we scooped up a few more people and decided we didn't care. My bank account would suggest I had nothing to drink there. Photos would suggest we took about 5 more shots. Oops. This is where my night is a blur but I know the most important parts happened.
First, there was Lee. Lee was my college hook up. Lee always got me in trouble. He was cute, mysterious (aka no Facebook account), oh, and in an on and off relationship. He almost got me in fights with girls at least ten times in college. And he NEVER said anything nice to me. It was purely a booty call. And I was completely okay with it. When I saw Lee at the bar, I was awe struck. He gave me a big hug and proceeded to tell me I was beautiful now. Um, I wasn't before? But I'll take it. And repeat this part of the night to everyone I see. We chatted for a few minutes. He referenced parts of my life that he shouldn't know about unless he had Facebook and I remembered what a creep he could be sometimes too. Nonetheless, confidence was boosted as I turned to walk to the bar.
Sitting at the bar, I vaguely remember that there was an ubber hot guy next to me. I remember Meg saying he was hot. I remember agreeing. I do not remember anything about what he actually looked like though. According to conversations the next morning, I chatted with said hottie for the rest of the night. And made out with him. While sitting next to Gus from night one. So classy. When asked what he looked like I was told "super jacked and tatted up." Yup, that sounds like me. In a nutshell, the rest of the night includes going to the sorority house and stealing a bunch of food. Then calling Meg 10938344 times to let us in her house before realizing the door was unlocked.
The next morning, I woke up and knew I had drank too much. Figuring breakfast would fix the problem, we headed to a diner and about 10 minutes in the hang over set in. I wanted to vom. And I tried. And I tried. And it didn't happen. So I was forced to delay my return to NC while I laid in Meg's bed and slept off the worst hang over I've had in years. Then I had to drive 7.5 hours home. Why do I do this to myself? Morgantown, you win again.
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