This is me on a Saturday night these days....

Living in Partyville, USA

Dear God, it’s a Tuesday!  Where’s my cat? Did I bolt the door?

As the sun goes down in this small college town, my anxieties grow as the anticipation of the night nears me. My hope of a good night’s sleep has now become a mere fantasy. I hear the sudden loud beat of a terrible song that’s probably degrading to women and it has begun. The overpowering grunts and groans echo into the early hours of the morning as the seemingly endless hoards pass my house and call out to each other.

Why the hell did I HAVE to live downtown?

It’s my fourth year of living in the downtown area of Chico, and the party is over.  It was all fun and games until my classes got harder, the hangovers became crippling, and my stomach could no longer handle the late night delicacies’ of Jack in the Box.  I now enjoy the finer things in life like Harry Potter movie marathons and telling drunken freshman to stop peeing on my house.

Chico, CA: AKA Partyville, USA. It’s the land of the dollar drinks where the streets glitter with the glass of discarded beer bottles. I wanted to be right in the middle of the action, to never miss a thing.  My search ended with a quaint place conveniently located in walking distance of the bars and all the late night pizza I could eat.   What more could a girl ask for?

The promise of a legendary college experience is so enticing; it can cloud the judgment of even the smartest of us. I never imagined passing the carcasses of burnt couches on my walk to class, the occasional chanting of “CHICO! CHICO! CHICO!” and rioting outside my window, or that blaring sirens would eventually turn into a nightly lullaby.  How could I? I just wanted to have an epic time.

Now I’m old, my bed is warm and those cheap bottles of vodka make me cringe. I once was one of the party zombies that plagued the downtown area, but now I long for a good night’s sleep and a front yard I can go barefoot in.

As I go out into to real world after graduation and search for a place to live, I will know to avoid places like Partyville, USA. No matter how much sleep I loose or how often I hear Ke$ha blaring at 3 am, I know that after I leave I will miss it in a way.  I will pass by a porch with a couch or beer pong table on it I will always remember the time I lived where the streets glittered with the glass of discarded beer bottles and smile.

Leave Your Observation

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>