• Story alerts
  • Letter to Editor
  • Pin it

I was talking with Christopher Rodeno, who works for A&R Productions. He arranged for the bands to play here. I asked if it was just reggae music he produced and he said, "No, we have a wide spectrum of music."

We went inside to one room that had a Ping-Pong table. There were lots of cups of beer on it, and at one point, someone hit the Ping-Pong ball into the beer. He then told his friend, "You got to down that now, dude!"

I thought of a comedian who recently said, "What do you think the smartest thing someone has ever said with the word 'dude' in it?" That line probably isn't a contender.

I met one of the hosts' neighbors. He said, "I'm so glad these guys moved here. They don't complain when I have parties, and I come over here when they have parties."

Shelley said, "There doesn't seem to be much pot here for a reggae party." A guy named Bo came out of nowhere and showed us his stash. He said, "I just didn't bring anything to smoke it with. Whenever I have a pipe with me, I have bad luck with the cops. Now I can't find anyone with a pipe."

After standing in line behind ten other people for the bathroom downstairs, we decided to try upstairs. We passed a Dalai Lama poster on the wall and found the door was locked. We knocked, and a guy sitting on the floor, totally out of it, asked what we wanted. He said, "There's a bathroom downstairs." He slammed the door. I thought pot was supposed to make people happy. I wanted to shout, "Where's the love? What's with the hostility, man?"

I knocked again and a girl answered. She said, "You can use the bathroom, but there's no toilet paper." Shelley went in and came back saying, "It was filthy in there, so I didn't go." When the door opened, a haze of marijuana smoke came billowing out.

When we walked back downstairs, people now had a joint going in the Ping-Pong room. It was starting to look like an authentic reggae party.

I met a waitress from Trophy's named Kris. I told her, "When I ate there, I was amazed that the waitresses can write their names upside down on the tablecloth." She said, "Yeah, that took me two days to learn. One time it confused a guy, who kept saying, 'What is 'Sirk'?"

Bo came over and offered us a beer. He told me that a local microbrewery had supplied six kegs. He tried to hand Shelley a beer. She whispered to me, "I'm afraid to drink anything a person here offers me."

She told me that, as she walked out of the kitchen, one Mexican guy grabbed her, saying, "Hey, you're hot." I wondered if that line works at parties.

As Bo continued to tell us how great the beer was, a guy came over in a panic. He was holding a beer tap, saying, "We just finished the third keg. And I can't find the other keg! Where are the other kegs?" Bo quickly left to track them down.

We went into the living room. There were lots of empty bottles of booze that people had finished. I saw a beautiful aquarium. I wondered if the homeowners worried that after a party like this they might wake with a Jack Daniel's bottle floating in there -- or a dirty shoe.

From the living room, I glanced around at the crowd. A girl was drinking champagne out of a bottle. A few guys were carrying around 40-ouncers. A black guy was trying to look cool with a toothpick in his mouth and gold chains around his neck.

The cops showed up around midnight, and everyone came into the house trying to be quiet. Bo got a call and said, "Screw the cops, come on in. The party crasher dude is here." He then handed me the phone to try to convince her. I made a joke about Bo being so drunk he did some sexual things to me. She then asked, "Is it okay to walk right past the cops?" I told her other people were.

Her name was Diane, and she was with a friend. Bo kept his arms around them for a few minutes, and I said he looked like a pimp. He said, "At the New Year's party here, I was wasted on ecstasy. I walked into one room, and there were five people having sex. This big orgy. It was so wild."

He then told us a list of the drugs he had tried and said something about rap music. I said, "Let's hear your freestyle." He said, "Give me a beat." I thought it would be silly for me to start making noises with my mouth, so a drummer friend of his started playing. Bo then went into this long rap that had us laughing.

A man who looked to be in his early 20s then sat down next to us on the couch. He was pissed that the cops had given him a ticket. "They are supposed to give you one oral warning first. Then the second time they come back, that's when you get a ticket. Those cops just went right to the ticket without a warning."

As Shelley and I were getting ready to leave, a blonde woman I hadn't talked to all night started telling me I couldn't write about her being at the party. She said she worked in the legal department for some company and she could lose her job. I told her I wouldn't mention her. She went on and on about the ramifications of it all, and I told her I didn't even know her name. She then told me her name.

When I started taking pictures, I took one of her on the couch with some guys. She said, "You can't use my picture. Wait a minute. Let me see it first."

  • Story alerts
  • Letter to Editor
  • Pin it

More from SDReader

More from the web

Comments

Sign in to comment