From The Classroom: How We Throw An Awesome Party

Hi there, Annapolis. Today, I’m gonna take you on a journey into the world of teen parties.

I’ve been to a few over the years, including a really awesome one last weekend, and I’ve decided that it’s my duty to report how we teens throw parties in Annapolis.

Now, I’m not talking about the crazy parties that end with people passing out on the floor, the cops called, and an entire wall gone mysteriously missing. The parties I go to certainly aren’t innocent, but if I sound like an inexperienced dweeb who’s never been to a party with beer before, it’s because I’m an inexperienced dweeb who’s never been to a party with beer before.

Hey, I’m just a freshman.

So, before I take you, dear readers, inside one of Annapolis’ awesomest parties, there is one thing you need to know about awesome parties and me.

We do not mix well.

Why not, you ask? I like the hosts, which is why I go. I like music, which is what they play. I like food, which is what they eat. I would probably like the sexual stimulation taking place on the dance floor were I man enough to engage in it.

I always think I will enjoy the party. When I get the invite in the mail, I am honored to be invited by the host. I know they will throw a great party. I put on my most knock-’em-dead clothes (generally consisting of a pair of randomly selected jeans and a shirt from Abercrombie that a girl told me she liked once) and know that I will rock the house until it is no longer standing. I enter the party and it’s awesome. Everyone is having a great time, whooping it up and shouting on the dance floor. It’s a real classy affair.

In general, it is a heck of a lot of fun, but for a guy for whom ‘excitement’ means ‘the feeling you get when you make the semifinals of a screenplay contest’, it can be a little daunting.

As I edge carefully around the group orgy in the middle of the dance floor, I realize that the entire place is populated by cool cats (translation: people who don’t talk to me and vice versa via an unspoken agreement that was made the first time I put on a pair of glasses). My only good friend there is the host, who obviously cannot chill in the back with me and laugh at my Sarah Palin jokes all night long.

I conjecture that I will be doing a lot of observing tonight. The first thing I observe is a tagalong little brother, a 7th grader, working the room better than me. Now I KNOW that I will be doing a lot of observing tonight.

So, after observing, I have compiled a list of things that everyone in Annapolis must know, should they wish to throw an awesome, classy birthday party for their teenagers.

Seth Perry’s Rules for an awesome party in Annapolis:

Rule #1: Have generic floor-shaking dance music. I know what caused the earthquake in Haiti, and it was the thundering bass line of the dance songs that it seems every DJ is required by law to play. Then again, nothing gets a crowd–and that includes me–happier than the familiar ‘puh-puh-puh-poker-face’. Another factor is the food. The party I attended had a nice assortment of ham sandwiches, potato chips, and pretzel sticks, which brings me to…

Rule #2: It is not an awesome party unless the refreshment table looks like a third grader’s lunch box. The decorations are also a factor. For instance, just to show that it is their party, the birthday person gets a….

Rule #3: EGO WALL. This is basically the equivalent of the 6-year-old birthday child bossing their friends around about where to sit and demanding the largest piece of cake. Normally, it would be construed as stuck-uppishness, but it’s your birthday. You’re allowed. It’s a bunch of photos of the person with their friends, grinning down on you. I’m not talking Polaroids, either–these were real top-notch photos. Also, the DJ should have brought along lights with him to aid his performance, meaning:

Rule #4: It’s not an awesome party unless the ceiling looks like an LSD-induced hallucination.

Other fine touches that I saw at the party:

Rule #5: Grass skirts on the overhanging lights. They weren’t grass skirts per se, but they were made of the same material. The stuff was just gray. It looked very nice. Plus, it aided me in fantasizing about Hawaiian girls after the depressing realization that everyone on the dance floor was getting some and I was not began to sink in. Also, the couches were covered in some sort of sparkly, glittery covering, which inspired

Rule #6: It’s only an awesome party if your couches look like a stripper’s bra.

Another party mainstay:

Rule #7: You must have a well-wishings board. I wrote a generic (read: crappy and uninventive) sentiment. How could I not? Most of my memories with people are too nerdy to put on a board that is generally populated by cool cats. It’d stick out like a pair of briefs in a 10-pack of boxers.

Rule #8: Have a photographer. Not only will it give you lasting memories, it’ll make your loner population feel 45% more uncomfortable. See, not a lot of people noticed I was just wand’ring around. But photographers are paid to notice things–and then take pictures of them. I caught them giving me sympathetic stares. Not one to accept pity, I kept turning my back on them. My butt ought to be prominently featured in the party album. Hope I have a nice butt.

And rule #9: Have fun. It’s what parties are all about. And believe me, these parties are custom-made to guarantee fun.

Yes siree, this is a tried-and-true formula practiced by people to produce the classiest, most fun parties known to man. If you’ve wondered whether it was appropriate to take your teenager to Chuck E. Cheese for their sweet sixteen, or what exactly our generation is doing when we’re not overcrowding Westfield Mall (not homework, that’s for sure), I hope you’ve learned a lot from this post.

Party on,

Tags: From The Classroom, seth perry

Category: COLUMNS, From The Classroom