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St. Cloud State University
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One time, one night
Barn plays unlikely host for late party
By Nick Hanson
Published:
Monday, April 26, 2004
While downtown bars offer a bevy of enticing drink specials within walking distance of SCSU, the area located directly outside campus - the Southside college neighborhood - embodies the heart and soul of general drunkenness.
A quick stroll through the Southside area, located between Fifth Avenue and Ninth Avenue South, will reveal shards of broken glass, 50/50 grass equations and more than a few houses that could use a fresh coat of paint.
It appears to be an optimum living environment for college students. Here, they can run freely, sip from a keg and urinate openly in the street.
Still, the streets aren't always flooded with sex-crazed students in search of one more shot of vodka. Sometimes the area resembles a ghost town. The reason: SCSU is a suitcase college. Come Friday or Saturday, a horde of cars heading south down Interstate 94 for a helping of mom's hearty goulash hot dish, fulfillment of weekend jobs, and more commonly, free laundry service.
Consequently, no other place exemplifies binge drinking quite like a Thursday night in St. Cloud. This Thursday night is no different.
While a barrage of other reporters prepared to trek around various portions of St. Cloud to offer a general idea of what happens in such a community from 11 p.m. to midnight on a Thursday, I was catching a buzz.
As the clock ticked toward 11 p.m., my roommates and I became antsy. We were in search of a house party to quench our undeniable thirst and more importantly, sexual appetites. The ring of a cell phone would inform us of our destination, but to keep busy we played P&A. Finally, the comforting sound of Petey Pablo's new hit emitted from my roommate's phone to reveal where we were headed.
Despite the 35 degree weather, we hit the streets clad in T-shirts. We reached the entrance to the decaying household. A man holding a towering mound of 12-ounce plastic cups greeted us. With his straight face and no-bulls- attitude he asked, "Hey, what's up," but really meant, "Give me $5 or get the f- out."
We willingly purchased our cups, but stumbled upon a surprise. The scene was not what we expected.
The Southside is home to two types of house parties: The "I can barely walk, wait in line for 30 minutes" bash and the "Where are the girls at?" gathering. Tonight, we experienced the latter.
Option two isn't always bad, because you can usually get your fill of barley. However, tonight we were hoping for option one. Our enthusiasm faded as we sat on a couch draining beer and chain smoking.
But at 11:20 p.m., something surprising happened. A phone call from an unexpected party member resulted in a strange turn of events. A source informed us of an event outside our typical Southside grazing area: a barn party off of Highway 10.
"What the Hell," we all said. Visions of horses frolicking in hay filled our heads as we waited for our ride. We packed into the car, took off and didn't look back.
The barn looked like a barn. It was big and red. Our adventure seemed slated for doom.
However, upon entrance I was instantly reminded of the Pepsi commercial featuring Ludacris. In it, a young hipster is searching for a raging party but can't find it. He drives by a seemingly quiet barn and disappointingly goes home. Then the camera flashes inside the barn to show Ludacris hosting a not-so-hidden women-and-Pepsi filled party.
This barn was much like the one in that commercial. Subtract Ludacris and Pepsi, throw in a heavy metal cover band and a few kegs and there you go.
We tipped our glasses and jammed out to Alice in Chains, Stone Temple Pilots and even Korn among a crowd of at least 100. Our antics ensued late into the night.
The barn party paralleled any house party we could have visited that night in the Southside, proving one fact: college students can come together to participate in binge drinking anywhere.
Even in an old red barn.
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