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Robin and Patrick shared this room, and we pushed their beds into the corners and stuck the stereo in the middle. We straddled the beds with the bar, sat the speakers on either end of it, and hung a black light poster behind it of a skeletal bartender asking you to choose your poison. We mixed lots of rum and Cokes with dry ice, death punch with glow sticks, Midori Sours and White Russians. This party went all night, as mellow drunks babbled profundities at each other until 5:00am.
This was at the height of our communal affair with Sublime, as half the music of the night was just two particular albums over and over. Hearing a drunk Michael singing Santaria at the top of his lungs was an event to behold, even outdoing Rowland and Jesse prancing goofily to Jody Sings by Masters Of Reality, another overplayed favorite album at the time.
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