I'm exhausted and it's the kind of exhaustion that not even a three hour mid evening nap can cure. The kind of exhaustion where my liver literally staggered out of my body, got on its knees and begged me to not even look at alcohol for at least five days. This kind of state is the direct result of none other than a weekend visit to Manhattan, Kansas where I spent the four most glorious years of my life at Kansas State University.
While it delights me to have the opportunity to visit, I always come back in this state and I believe these are the reasons why: a.) I refuse to acknowledge that I'm getting older and I just can't party and drink like I did during my college years even though I attempt to every time (oh, freshman year, when I could take shots of Viaka right out of the bottle...how I DON'T miss you.) b.) That mini road trip of a car ride takes a lot out of you even though all you're doing is sitting on your ass barely moving and singing (at least this time) loudly along with Tenacious D with Whitney. c.) Since we know that each trip to this place pretty much falls under the sacred category, we try to shove all things Manhattan into two days, in which we are rarely successful, but almost kill ourselves trying. This brings me to one of the quotes of the trip - "Hey, remember we were going to do that? But then we got drunk and forgot..."
Needless to say, a full recap of the weekend is impossible and I'm not even sure a full recap of just the highlights is possible, but I'm going to try.
First of all, it wasn't a football game that brought us back this time, but the wedding of a sorority sister Andrea a.k.a. Yado. Whitney also flew in from Denver, so I knew it was just going to be ridiculous. We can't get together without the craziest occurrences known to man happening. I picked her up from the airport and like I said before sang loudly to Tenacious D all the way through the Flint Hills until we got to her mom and step dad's house (she's from Manhattan).
Of course the first thing we wanted to know was what Jan and Bob had done with the damn, decrepit life size demon doll they keep in the basement. Not only were we scared shitless of that creepy thing when we all stayed at their house last fall especially when it mysteriously disappeared, but then they went as far as to hang the doll from the basement door frame by a bungee cord with a note attached that said 'stay out of my domain!' so when we came home that night and opened the door, we all pretty much peed ourselves half with fright half with laughter.
And, of course there she was greeting us at the bottom of the basement stairs with a sign that said 'Welcome to the dungeon.' I knew they couldn't resist. And neither could we because she ended up in various places throughout the weekend including Lacey's bed.
Friday night was like a college days reunion that involved us spiking our plastic beer cups, a rolled ankle, busted ear drums from the worst female singer ever and a frolic with some big band groupies. Apparently our trip fell on the same weekend as "Aggie Fest" - some sort of local band festival that started after we graduated.
Saturday couldn't have gone better with a speedy Catholic wedding ceremony (I didn't even know that was possible!) and time to kill in between the ceremony and reception, we spent way too much money buying more K-State paraphernalia and visiting this fabulous new store called Envy. This store alone may be reason to move back...
Then we relived our college Wednesday nights with cosmos at Porter's - yes, in fact we do believe we are Carrie Bradshaw and crew at times.
The reception? All I can say is OPEN BAR...and awesome food. Oh, and Whitney, Lacey, me and one other sorority sister were the only, I mean ONLY single people at the entire reception. There's nothing like slow dancing with chicks and other women's husbands and boyfriends.
After an undisclosed yet surely excessive amount of free alcohol and visiting with old friends, Aggieville called us again - so much so that I now have a story involving the stairwell of the Holiday Inn and Whitney and I ended up in a cab at 4:30 in the morning.
The weekend was tied up in a nice little drunken bow Sunday afternoon when a severely hungover Whitney had me stop at a McDonald's on the way to the airport so she could throw up before boarding the plane. And, since the toilet lid wouldn't stay open, I got the privilege of participating in a vomit assist. As I stood there, holding up the toilet seat making sure to look straight ahead while cheering on Whitney's "accomplishment" I started cracking up; laughing to the point of tears. Other people our age have mortgages and children and here we are coming off a two day bender praising puke in a fast food restaurant bathroom. Will we ever grow up? God, I hope not.
And, the best part? We're doing it all again next weekend. Sorority alumni tailgate, football game, Aggieville...Our poor, poor livers...