It was though, wasn’t it? Sure, the sky was dark and the grass was wet and the temperature was a bit lower than we would have preferred for our VEISHEA Thursday,  but still, there was something about last night that was different and just altogether awesome.

It wasn’t the booze, that’s for sure; there’s always booze, all year round. And it wasn’t the bars, either. You had to pay to get through the door, and once you were inside, you were just another sardine in the can — trying to swim your way through a tidal wave of faceless strangers just to quench the thirst you worked up squeezing past them. Sweating in confinement while waiting for a gratuitously high-priced drink — especially for a Thursday — you realized that conversation would have been impossible, and it was too cramped to dance.

Maybe it was that party you went to later on, not the crazy one that got busted, that was basically the same as the bars, but with more dudes. The one after that. You know, the slow-burner, just off the beaten path. Yeah, that had to have been it. There had been other parties like it this year, and you enjoyed them, but they got old. They were always comfortable and relaxed, yet energetic. The music was nice and loud, but you could still talk to people, and the conversations were new and stimulating.

But as the year dragged on, you kept finding that same party, meeting those same people and having to drunkenly relearn their names again. You had the same conversations. You still had a decent time, but your weekends became predictable, so you tried the bars.

The first few times out, you had a blast, but before long, you wore them out the same way you wore out that same old party; spontaneity degenerated into routine.

But then VEISHEA broke the routine. Everyone was out and, despite the weather, the night was calling to you, and everybody else too, it seemed. You wandered the neighborhood, high-fiving people without knowing why; you were just going with it. And then you came upon that awesome party, the slow-burner.

A couple of people smoking cigarettes on the lawn greeted you with a wave, and you stopped to chat. Before you knew it, they were on their third cigarette and you were 40 minutes deep into a conversation you’d previously had with others, but this time you were hearing and saying different things, thinking different thoughts.

Maybe it wasn’t necessarily a drinking party you were looking for after all, but rather social stimulation. Sure, having some drinks can be a good time, but you’ve learned that booze can’t make a boring night anything other than what it is. People are what make a party, and social interaction is what keeps life fresh.