Column - Jasper Koopmans

February 2, 2017

How I survived an ongoing house party for four months. 

 

Sometimes after a great house party you hear the comment “I wish it went on for another couple of days.” Well mine started somewhere in August and ended in the last week of December. I finally feel able to reflect on these wild months.

 

 

 

The first days study didn’t start, I didn’t have a job and I was ready to party. I literally didn’t care who or what was walking through my house. It was such a mess that it took more than a minute to cross my eight meter long apartment. You could be drowning in pools of fallen beers, breaking a bone by falling over a chair or even worse: being attacked by a hobo.

 

By now people must be thinking I’m over exaggerating, but I’m not even close to catching the craziness that went on at my place. And that’s only the first week. When study started, I didn’t start. The party went on and I’m sure that it fucked up a couple of freshman’s that wouldn’t get through the first semester. But hey, we had to party on. It was always crowded in my 28m2 apartment, other people actually lived in it. I remember returning from going out one night and seeing someone lying on my couch, I panicked, because when I left, surely no one was there. But with all the chaos around me, I just accepted it and went to sleep, just to see who it was the next day. The following morning I probably forgot that I panicked and we just started drinking again. It didn’t matter whether it was eleven AM or somewhere in the middle of the night, hell, like we had any idea whether the sun was coming up or going down.

 

 

 

The weird thing is that we were sure what we were doing was the right thing, at least I was. Why wouldn’t we enjoy every second of every day? If you finally get passed the unbelievable messiness and the complete disconnection with the world, it becomes a lifestyle. At the moment of this writing, when things finally boiled down and I’m actually preparing to go for a run, I must say this period has been the most educational experience of my life.

By being so drunk to consider ascending across windows to get someone’s cigarettes that fell down, you learn to have no fear. By tripping so hard that you see thousands of years passing by, again and again, you learn that the only moment to live is now. By playing the craziest drinking games that get you drunk in only a matter of seconds, you learn to be competitive as hell. And most important of all, through these four months I’ve come to realize that I’ve chosen the best friends possible, because how much must you be alike to all say “fuck the system, these months we’ll party and party and party and that’s all we’ll do”?

Clearly I’ve become a wise man and all I can say is “It didn’t have to go on for another couple of days but I’m more than glad it lasted all these months.”

 

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