Mormons don’t really party.

Amendment: Good Mormons who actually try to live their faith don’t really “party”. In party there should be definite implications towards the modern usage of the word, including drugs, debauchery, Russian Roulette; como quieres jefe. We do party in the sense of having a good time.

Staying out of the scene is alright with me. Even as a teenager, it was alright. I still occasionally stayed out until four in the morning, but my parents were cool enough to allow that and even came and picked me up unexpectedly at awful hours when I got stranded somewhere for one reason or another.

However, because of my personal standards and my convictions to remain ‘in but not of the world’ it could be argued that I missed out on certain partying-related experiences that are essential to relating to others in my generation.

I’ve heard the stories. Even if I wasn’t at the house-party with you, I still hung out with you the next day and tried to speak quietly so as not to further irritate your tender head. I commiserated with you about the dozens of new phone-numbers that were suddenly programmed into your cell-phone and the hundreds of text messages from total strangers. I have had the joys and horrors of E, Alcohol, Weeds, Shrooms, Acid, Cocaine, 8-balls etc. described in ‘hard-too-remember-at-times’ details. I laughed at the hilarious story of how you trick your friend into buying his own drugs back from you for twice as much. I got to see how utterly miserable you were the night after you slept with your best friend, your best friend’s best friend, your best friend’s boy/girlfriend, a total stranger or a total lunatic.

I have a pretty good idea what I’m supposedly missing.

I bring this up, because I recently went to what could be considered a house party except that it was totally dry, nobody got any and everyone at the party went home the next day, showered, went to work/went to sleep and then showed up at church the next day (as far as I can tell) with a clear conscious.

We danced a bit, watched movies, played retro arcade games and billiards. There was a hot-tub and a lot of food and water-bottles.

I awoke the next day in a closet under the staircase.

A horse voice asked, “Hey, are there any shoes in there with you?”

“Nah, man. Just some kitchen utensils and a fairy costume.”

I crawled out into the light, tripped over some empty water bottles and found some guy asleep on the pool-table.

I had to search for my shoes too.

In retrospect I’m really not sure I’ve been all that deprived of a proper teenage or college social experience.