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When the weather was warmer, I was invited to a Jet-Ski party at Crown Point. "Crazy Scott" told me about the event and said they've been doing it for the past three years. It was a summer weekend, and though getting on the I-5 was a nightmare, driving by SeaWorld was worse. There had been a power outage, and the traffic signals were messed up. When I rolled into the Crown Point parking lot, big signs posted for the party made it easy to find.

I thought they would have had Jet Skis lined up at the shore, as I was eager to ride one. I asked someone how many Jet Skis they had. "Uh, well, I think they only have one. And someone is riding it." I was disappointed. I was told this was a Jet-Ski party. I had visions of us doing stunts as if we were the Blue Angels. The guy told me to talk to Crazy Scott, who said, "Well, we used to have a bunch, but we got rid of them. It's so much easier to just rent one. We don't have to worry about prepping them, fixing them, and it's just a matter of throwing $80 of gas and oil into it." I told him about a rental I had in Laughlin over a decade ago and how once I fell off, it took me ten minutes to get back on. He laughed and then told me the rules: stay to the right and no riding after drinking.

I asked why they called him Crazy Scott. "I did crazy shit in college. I was one of those guys they'd say 'Get Scott, he'll do it.' And I usually did." Another guy interrupts to say, "We got tired of calling him 'Retarded Scott,' so it changed to Crazy."

A lot of these guys were in the Phi Kappa Theta fraternity at SDSU. One of them flew in from Chicago to attend the party. The frat guys explained the rules of the slosh ball game they were going to play later. One person said, after a few attempts at explaining it, "It's like softball with a keg at second base. Another keg is near the pitcher. You have to keep drinking."

A few guys tried to play beer pong, but it was too windy.

I asked Scott how he got a space at Crown Point on a weekend. "The park opens at 4:00 a.m. By 5:00, all the spots are taken. I got here early and set up chairs all around this area."

He told me they had five kegs but wasn't sure of the laws, so they were keeping them hidden under the table. I pointed to a keg that was out in the open, and Scott said, "Yeah, I know. Well, we have a DEA agent here. If the cops show up, he can talk to them. It's funny, because we have stoners over there and DEA agents over on that side." Someone nearby added, "It's like when I had that roommate in college. He had OCD and was always cleaning. I had ADD and was a bit of a slob. Sharing a place together was insane." It made me think an updated version of The Odd Couple might be in order (if anyone does it after reading this, I'll sue).

I smell pot and assume it's not coming from the DEA agents. As I grabbed fruit from the food table, a guy came over to tell me how they read the column while they were in college and had hoped I'd crash one of their frat parties. He asked me if I'd gone on the Jet Ski yet. "No. Show me where it is." We walked down to the water, but as I was about to get on it, someone told us that it wasn't ours. I stepped away and watched as a couple put their young son on it. I was bummed. As the kid rode off, he looked back at me and stuck his tongue out (okay, he didn't, but I like to remember it that way).

Dejected, I walked back up to the party. Scott saw that I was bummed and tried to call the guy on their Jet Ski. I said, "Don't worry about it. I'll wait until he gets back."

A few people were kicking a soccer ball around, and it kept hitting people lying on their blankets. The second time it hit a woman, she was pissed. One of the guys said, "I feel bad I hit her. But not as bad as that guy probably feels from this morning. His boat hit the dock over there." I told him that on my way here, I saw a car that went through a gas station in PB and how they closed the roads around it. He asked, "Was there a big explosion?" Someone said, "I think that's just in the movies. I've seen so many car accidents, and there's never an explosion or fire."

Then something did catch fire -- the grill. I looked over and the guys cooking started to panic. One yelled, "Turn it off!" as his friend tried to reach for the knobs while avoiding the flames. After about 20 seconds, they put the fire out.

Someone asked why there weren't any Jell-O shots. Scott said, "Last year we had a thousand. Everyone got messed up, and we had a few kegs left over. This year we didn't do the Jell-O shots, and now everyone is disappointed about it." Another guy said, "I told my friend to bring some Jell-O shots. Let me call him." As he talked on the phone, I heard him say, "Dude, I told you not to take SeaWorld Drive. The power went out and the lights are all jacked up. It will take you forever. What do you mean the Jell-O is melting? Turn the air conditioner on in your car!" He snapped his phone shut and shook his head. Someone asked him, "Can the animals die if the power goes out at SeaWorld?" He said, "They probably have a generator or something. A big amusement park like that is prepared for those types of things. But, right now, I'm not worried about Shamu dying or some people being stuck in the sky rides. I want those Jell-O shots to get here without being a melted mess in the back of my friend's El Camino!"

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