I never knew what "Late Nighting" was until last spring-- my sixth semester in college, to be exact. As an underage drinker, I would always get to the bar early, when I knew the bouncer would be easier on my fake ID (Naima from West Virginia, you ethnic goddess sent from heaven, thank you.). An 11pm arrival, combined with the fact that I still had yet to learn how much alcohol I could consume without dying, usually meant that I was blacked out and "home" from the bars around 1am. I use the term "home" loosely, as my older, heavier-weight boyfriend would often return to his house around 3:00 to find me passed out in his bed spooning an empty bag of Quick Pita (I really wonder why things didn't work out between us).
When I got back from abroad last January, an allllllllmost 21-year-old single woman, my nightly habits changed quite a bit. Suddenly, I was drinking more responsibly (read: diluting my vodka drinks with Sugar Free Redbull) and was thus able to stay awake long after the Rhino lights came on. And so I discovered the beauty of the "Late Night."
The first time I stayed at Rhino until close (seriously, it was at the end of junior year) I became a member of a new routine that I have performed every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night since: the upstairs lights come on and everyone moves downstairs as slowly as possible. Then, everyone stands by the door until Sweet Caroline comes on, we all sing along, and then the night is officially over. We turn to each other and ask "Where are we going????" and attempt to figure out our next move (after we all get food, obviously).
Late nighting, truthfully, is my favorite part of a night out. All the best stuff happens after 2am, especially when this "stuff" includes Tuscany Pizza, Natty Light and 90's pop hits. Trying to make out with a boy? Bring him to late night. Trying to get rid of a boy? Bring him to late night.
The best late night The Coop (a name I gave to my house a year ago that has yet to catch on) has ever thrown involved a drug dealer named DJ (who was looking for, not selling, drugs-- he left disappointed), a flasher, a large Domino's pizza and six jars of Queso smashed on our back porch.
Seriously, the possibilities are endless.
This leads me to my question, and the root of this post: Why doesn't anyone want to late night with us?
For the past umpteen weekends, myself and all of my (super hot) roommates have stood on the Rhino stairs shouting "LATE NIGHT AT OUR HOUSE!!!!!" inviting anyone and everyone in Georgetown to come hang out with us.
Without fail, no one shows up.
We have all the makings of a good party: food, beer, girls, music... we even invested in a strobe light.
And yet, every night, the six of us end up falling asleep alone over a half-eaten (ok. fully eaten.) box of cheesy bread.
Last weekend, two of our guy friends showed up, but they promptly fell asleep too.
So, if anyone in Georgetown is reading this, please come late night with us this weekend. We promise to provide beer and good company, and will do our best to stay awake. Seriously-- you're invited. (Unless you're DJ the Drug Dealer... he is unanimously banned.)
When I got back from abroad last January, an allllllllmost 21-year-old single woman, my nightly habits changed quite a bit. Suddenly, I was drinking more responsibly (read: diluting my vodka drinks with Sugar Free Redbull) and was thus able to stay awake long after the Rhino lights came on. And so I discovered the beauty of the "Late Night."
The first time I stayed at Rhino until close (seriously, it was at the end of junior year) I became a member of a new routine that I have performed every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night since: the upstairs lights come on and everyone moves downstairs as slowly as possible. Then, everyone stands by the door until Sweet Caroline comes on, we all sing along, and then the night is officially over. We turn to each other and ask "Where are we going????" and attempt to figure out our next move (after we all get food, obviously).
Late nighting, truthfully, is my favorite part of a night out. All the best stuff happens after 2am, especially when this "stuff" includes Tuscany Pizza, Natty Light and 90's pop hits. Trying to make out with a boy? Bring him to late night. Trying to get rid of a boy? Bring him to late night.
The best late night The Coop (a name I gave to my house a year ago that has yet to catch on) has ever thrown involved a drug dealer named DJ (who was looking for, not selling, drugs-- he left disappointed), a flasher, a large Domino's pizza and six jars of Queso smashed on our back porch.
Seriously, the possibilities are endless.
This leads me to my question, and the root of this post: Why doesn't anyone want to late night with us?
For the past umpteen weekends, myself and all of my (super hot) roommates have stood on the Rhino stairs shouting "LATE NIGHT AT OUR HOUSE!!!!!" inviting anyone and everyone in Georgetown to come hang out with us.
Without fail, no one shows up.
We have all the makings of a good party: food, beer, girls, music... we even invested in a strobe light.
And yet, every night, the six of us end up falling asleep alone over a half-eaten (ok. fully eaten.) box of cheesy bread.
Last weekend, two of our guy friends showed up, but they promptly fell asleep too.
So, if anyone in Georgetown is reading this, please come late night with us this weekend. We promise to provide beer and good company, and will do our best to stay awake. Seriously-- you're invited. (Unless you're DJ the Drug Dealer... he is unanimously banned.)
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