We are gathered here today, not to mourn the loss of a friend, but rather celebrate the life that once lived. And a life live fruitfully, may I add. Today we celebrate the life of the Party Girl who has hung up her frat jacket, and has chosen to just Netflix, leaving the “chill” behind. She was the eternal holder of the Cards Against Humanity “Poor Life Choices” card and preferred Sunday Morning regret management to Saturday Night discretions. On August 19, 2012, the party girl arrived to college and there began the ascent of her short-lived career.
Freshman year was full of firsts for the party girl, as she danced with Molly, and celebrated legalization with Mary Jane; she quickly learned that college wasn’t a single place, but rather a state of mind. She wore white shirts and miniskirts in 30-degree weather, just asking the boxed red wine to ruin their chance at another night, but slowly, she was learning. A time before Uber and Lyft, she knew the off-campus party scene as the Frat Map it truly was, and even the approximate times from the dorms. With a pseudo- boyfriend at home she was always to sure to return home before she got into any trouble, though she was guilty of letting boys walk her back and promptly pretending to vomit- in case they got the wrong idea.
She celebrated her 20th birthday on her fake ID’s 24th, and threw herself a proper fraternity party despite a pending IFC memorandum. She drank tequila in Cabo San Lucas until it was running through her veins, and threatened to sue her sorority when she was escorted out of sorority formal for yet another demonstration of, “Underage girls who can’t hold their liquor.”
Junior year was the beginning of the end for the Party Girl. While it appeared that the party has just begun, the Police Department was in a different business. And apparently, almost 21, was still 20, and still grounds for a Minor in Possession ticket, even if you’re standing on your front porch. But on January 20, 2015, she entered the Schengen Territory on a French Visa, and watched as her age danced into legality. “You aren’t like the American stereotypes,” she would tell herself as she drank an entire bottle of 2 Euro Rosé in the cobblestone streets. French, Italian, English, or Spanish, we all spoke the same language at 4 AM in Southern France.
As senior year reaches its half point, I can only mourn what is left of the Party Girl. As Christopher Columbus once thought the world was flat, and he may fall off the horizon ahead, May 7, 2016, my graduation date, shares a similar sentiment. Her hangovers are telling her that the end is near, but the free drinks and bottle services are telling her it’s just a phase. Her liver will outgrow it, and be stronger than ever. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” said wise German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, and with that I propose a toast.
Today I say goodbye to the party girl who could mix and mingle at no expense, and say hello to a world where 3 glasses of wine leaves you borderline drunk. From the nights she wouldn’t remember, because she never gave herself the chance. And the men she’d never date, because she always left before dawn. She danced on tables in Cabo San Lucas, and missed her bus to stay with an Australian man in Budapest. She used her fake ID to buy 17 dollar Bloody Marys at the airport, and allowed a 30-year-old British man-child to fly her to San Francisco. She threw up in a doggie bag on Norwegian Airlines while flying from Nice to London, and on the side of the freeway driving to the airport with her dad.
Today we remember the party girl, though she has fallen from the peaks of her college experience, her memory will never be forgotten. And may she live on through bottles of Burnett’s for years to come. Cheers.