Off Topic With Ashley

My Saturday night was all laid out to be an absolute kicker. I had two parties to share myself between, and oh so little time in which to do so. The night would prove to be an exercise in being fantastic, or so I was convinced.

It started well. I received a message at some ungodly hour in the morning letting me know that Claye’s party had been shifted to directly conflict with Rachel’s.

I decided later that afternoon, in an act of selfish defiance to sit around deciding which one to go to until well after both had started. This left me in an easy position, because obviously I’d have to go to the Florrie gig, no questions asked. Procrastination is a good excuse not to feel like an arse for ditching somebody’s do.

I left for the train station and ducked into the store to buy some coke. I discovered two things as I jogged out of the store:

1. Three car trains that run of a night time stop in the middle of the platform, so you can’t see them at the station.
2. The time on my phone is inexplicably five minutes slow.

These two points combined meant that my actually catching the train went rapidly from a 100% success rate, to a very resounding FAIL. The train started taking off as I jogged up the stupid zigzag ramp.

Feeling mad and defeated, I walked the three kilometres to Virginia station to catch a train along the other line. At this point, I still didn’t realise my clock was slow, so I only just made the trip with two minutes to spare — testament to my superior walking pace.

I got to the party after swatting away about a dozen bogans (hey — Caboolture line,) and walked inside to a bunch of people sitting in the living room. The music was turned down low, and everyone was huddled over a deck of playing cards. Instantly I thought “Oh, no. Nobody’s turned up!”

As it turned out, the cards were actually part of a complicated drinking game, and even though I turned up late, I was still earlier than a number of other people. I settled right in to the teenage binge drinking routine that so defines these parties, and eventually became everybody’s best friend.

I didn’t actually drink all that much, as Jess, Rach and I had had pre-drinks the night before. It went a long way toward leaving me hangover free the next day, although Ross complained of feeling seedy despite not having had a drop of anything remotely toxic the night before.

There were a bunch of photos taken — especially of French people, and other groups of people making out. I took a few G rated shots on my phone, but the camera with it’s ultra-lame flash really isn’t suited to night time shots. Instead I’ve included a few of the shots taken of me, just because I’m like that and enjoy the attention.

It was a good night, there was minimal shouting, and there was the highest incidence of people crashing in the lounge room that I think I’ve ever witnessed. All in all, a good night that I’m sure those of us that remember will look back on and smile.