The Party Bus Survival Guide: Nighttime Addendum

While the references are rare, her powers are enumerated through brief, forceful examples throughout Greek mythology. Nyx, goddess of the primordial night, spawned some of the greatest mythological representations: death, sleep, the fates, and ironically enough, day, just to name a few. She represents a figure of such magnitude that Zeus himself did not dare anger her, as witnessed in Homer’s Iliad, when Nyx’ son, Hypnos (sleep), runs for her protection after angering the god of all gods. I swear none of that is plagiarized, I just write the goodest, sometimes. Naturally, since this knowledge required an exhaustive researching of Wikipedia, I have reserved this parallel of omnipotence to be drawn between the Greek goddess of the night and a Night Party Bus.  See, I’m back writing gooder thanks to my edumacation. As you’ve all undoubtedly read the Party Bus Survival Guide, allow this blog to act as the night bus’ addendum on those aforementioned daytime laws.  Yes, that means there are entirely new genus’ of riders, potential bus pitfalls, and of course, iTunde postulates. Without further ado…

I'm so excited for this blog, I had to get Rosie Jones involved. Never forgotten.

GUEST LIST: New Species

a. Eagerus Imbiberae

For whatever reason, the cloak of darkness facilitates a speed and intensity amongst some drinkers that is unmatched.  The warming sun of a day bus may compel its drinkers to relax with a beer over the first 15-minute span before raging their spandex off. However, the night bus has people ripping shots, slapping the bag and ‘gunning beers as soon as the wheels part from the curb. Even though Michael Buffer may not be on your bus, his drinking equivalent is there to let you know you better get ready to rumble. While the overall state of the night bus is improved for everybody due to the selfless acts of the Eagerus Imbiberae who ride within, their individual night is often cut short around hour two due to blackout. Arguments can be made and won that “Eagerus Imbiberae” is the noblest of titles attained on the night’s ride.

b. Coherentis Solidaritae

We all remember the Dormis Comatosis from the first bus blog. That lone person who simply goes so hard nothing can keep them conscious. Well, at the night bus’ conclusion, the entire constitution of the bus is bass-ackwards. Now, just about everyone that actually makes it back onto the bus at the end of the night is strewned about, using shoulders as pillows, resembling Jigglypuff in a Super Smash Bros. Gamecube session in the Den. If you didn’t get that Pokemon reference, don’t worry, you probably just suck. Anyway, you may be wondering where the Coherentis Solidaritae factors into this equation. This rider is the lone person fist pumping in the front of the bus on the ride home, when they finally realize nobody else is cognizant. Doing a slow turn back, the crushing realization dawns on them like that Twilight Zone story about the guy who wants to be alone in a library for all eternity, then shatters his reading glasses: they didn’t get drunk enough. Scrambling to awake their closest friend to see if they have any rage left in them, the Coherentis Solidaritae is one of the most unenviable bus species. Take this as your warning.

c. Lordus Danceus

Whether pop n’locking to the musical stylings of the Biebs, bouncing to a mashup by Guetta or giving a tutorial to everyone yearning to Dougie, this rider sits no song out and is often the first to occupy the pole at the bus’ nucleus. Along the way, they somehow manage to constantly gyrate in some semblance of rhythm during each sip (slap or shotgun) of alcohol they take. En route to the bus’ stop at a bar/club they make the bold proclamation that the dance floor within that establishment is about to be held ransom, yet, ultimately murdered in ruthless fashion, regardless of payment… so somebody better call the cops now. Gender carries no relevance here, as the Lordus Danceus primarily acts as the first dancing icebreaker for all non-affiliated bus riders.

Kate Upton, SI Swimsuit Model- redefines hotness and the Dougie, at once.

DRESS CODE

 While I hate to completely remove the notion that the Neonus Feminae is not an extinct species on the Night Bus, it is certainly on the endangered list. Only in the rarest of instances is someone capable of both dressing slutty enough to get onto a dance floor AND being in neon. While always leaving the door ajar for that sort of greatness, it is often a threshold that goes uncrossed. More regularly, the night bus consists of two relatively specific templates for how one is dressed. They are obviously gender specific and go a lot like this…

FEMALE:

Kim just killing the middle 1/3.The guy on the right just killing my retinas.

1- Some variance of dress that presents the optical illusion of it literally being painted onto the skin due to tightness. (It can either be a one piece that requires all bodily effort to be squeezed into, similar to the casing of a sausage, or one of those high-waisted skirts that consistently blur the lines of sex/secretary on Mad Men.

2- Legal length of this dress is not to exceed more than 2 3/4 ‘’ past the curvature of the butt cheek measured from the waist, or less than 1/3 of the subjects body. Yes, the dress should not be covering more than the middle third of the wearer.

3- Regulation fc*k me heels. No further explanation necessary.

MALE:

1- Dark Jeans.

2- Button-down Ralph Lauren shirt.

3- Sperry’s.

Natural observations for each gender:

MALE:

Look, I don’t run a fashion blog like my good friend Logan @ http://onemanswagger.blogspot.com/ … So I’ll let him do a better job describing it. I basically detailed what I wear out, every night I go out, bus or not.

FEMALE:

a. Just as God intended, the females will look far more beautiful then the males.

b. The females undergarments will almost certainly be on display for all to see at one point. It’s the simple formula: skirt+alcohol(bus + sitting/standing)= panty.

iTunde Playlist Updates 1.1 (as always, quotes from Tunde set the tone)

Ammendment 1: “There is literally no time to mess around, so you gotta get hits in early, because people just DIE on the night bus!” Couldn’t have said it better myself, Tunde. For this reason, Khia’s “My Neck My Back” is the easy choice as the commencement song. After that, waste no time getting to the most popular songs within your group because by hour three, people will forget their own phone number.

Amendment 2: “Really? like really…it’s a night bus, there’s no room for relaxing songs. That playlist better be damn TOUGH!” In case you weren’t sure from the Khia song, Tunde isn’t messing around here. We are talking hit after hit, no matter how hardcore, or sexually explicit. Some songs that might fall under this umbrella include: Rick Ross “MC Hammer,” Madcon “Freaky Like Me,” Fabolous “You Be Killin ‘Em,” and YC’s “Racks.”

Googled: Huge Rack. Got: Heidi Montag. Who knew Heigh would ever make it into the Revolver?!

DESERTION

This is perhaps the most pressing issue one must be prepared for when taking part in a night bus. While desertion is a term generally reserved for war, myriad reasons ensure the people who get on the bus to start the night simply will not be riding home on it. Dropping from the ranks worse than a Confederate soldier at the Battle of Antietam, the dangerous elements of a night bus exact their toll quickly and without warning. Let’s first take care of the obvious reasons for straying from the group: darkness, food, sickness, maming, emergency room, strip club, public urination arrest, cannibalism and hallucinations of Ewoks dubbing you their king and carrying you away. Now, let’s touch on the more rare, animalistic survival tactic that often comes into play when excessive drinking and overwhelming human interaction mix.

It's time to go if things look like this.

We all know the scene. You’re unclear of how you got there, but as sure as the day is long, you’re standing in the middle of a dance floor, disoriented, foggy and haphazardly clothed. Without knowledge of the forensic analysis of rape for a few more days, you experience that queasy instinctual reaction: fight or flight. Since there’s nobody to fight because no one is paying attention to your stumbling ass, your brain shuts down all external receptors and enters into tunnel vision. You need to get out. Now. In one of the rarest of drinking miracles, nature has released the basic survival tactics that prevented early mankind from falling enslaved to Sauron’s army of Orcs in the fight for middle earth (if you subscribe to the Tolkien view of man’s evolution).

You alert nobody of your departure as you fumble, crash and spill into anyone who gets in your path. At this very moment, no other stimuli could prevent your ultimate goal: bed. Except for food: the first necessary means of survival. So you stop at 7/11 and stick a shrink-wrapped sub that is officially past expiration since it’s after midnight, down your pants/into your purse. Armed with sustenance, you begin the journey home. Whether it requires a three-mile walk in heels, haggling with an Uzbekistani cab driver over a fixed fare of three wadded up homeless bills, or bumming a ride off a stranger in the middle of a busy intersection, you will get home safely. Just not on the bus.

Okay, so not EVERYONE makes it home.

MORNING AFTER

Unfortunately, the fun from the night before doesn’t end there. As the Sahara-like dryness of your mouth finally forces you to wake up at an otherwise ungodly hour, your first reaction is like the start of a Rick Ross verse when you literally verbalize the thought: “OUAHwha!!!… WHERE AM… OHTHANKGOD” as you realize this is real life.  Walking into the living room, friends immediately blow up your spot talking about the stuff you were unconsciously doing the night before. In this instance, I like to use the “shot at the doctor” coping method. When you need to get bloodwork done, you know it’s coming, you know there’s a sharp prick, and you know in the end things are going to be fine. After the bus, deep down there’s some discomfort as you sit there and take the shot (or retelling of your actions) , but there is also the everlasting memory of a night you’ll never forget you forgot and got told about.  If you’re lucky, you’ll even get the following text sent to you: “I woke up… in only a thong… and a plate with mustard on my desk which leads me to believe I ate a hot dog.” Yup, it’s like that.

There's the mustard!

 Stay tuned…

 

Party Bus Survival Guide

Ladies and gentleman, can I please have your attention! I have just been handed an urgent and horrifying piece of news, and I need all of you to stop what you’re doing and listen…

It’s Party Bus Season!

That’s right. ‘Tis the season to board a bus before noon, load that bus with mass quantities of alcohol, pick out your 32 coolest friends, fill your iPod (or iTunde) with the hottest songs possible, and prepare to take your city by shitstorm. Sure, you may be thinking, “Damn, if I do all that stuff, this bus would be harder to fc*k up than a wet dream!” Well, take it from someone who has fc*ked up his share of wet dreams: you’re wrong. You see, simply having fun on a party bus should never be the goal. The true glory comes when everyone on the bus is mid sing-along to Britney’s new “Till the World Ends” and realizes that this day has transcended sheer fun and entered a realm of bliss filled cheesecake, topped with Four Loko, fornication, fairy dust and of course, alliteration. Luckily for you, I just recently partook in this hallowed event, and am writing this guide today. Before I do that, here’s what that realm I just described looks like in female form.

I guess I could have just said its like Bar Rafaeli on a beach...

Another note before we get started. I have no idea where to insert gorgeous women in this particular blog, so they will just be strewn throughout haphazardly, or I will use a funny movie clip to emphasize my points… cool? Cool.

1. THE GUEST LIST

Perhaps the most important decision made since D Day is who gets the invite on your party bus. The first step in this process is realizing that you can’t possibly please everyone. With limited space available, you need to delicately balance the ratio of guys/girls, hot/mediocre (because you don’t chill with full-blown uggos anyway), true friends/friends of the hottest girls, and finally, out-of-town friends who help turn those awkward start of bus introductions into the tiny slices of life’s hilarity. Once your list is complete, there will be precisely six genres of guests on the bus. They are as follows.

a. Alpha Maximus

Natural born bus leaders. Little more needs to be said. They seamlessly transition the opening bus awkwardness into a full blown rave with/without the E by organizing group shotguns, shots, and or dance offs. Without these gregarious drunks, the party may never even percolate, let alone come to a full on boil of sex. I’d say more about this special breed, but you already know whether you are one or not.

b. Neonus Feminae

The rare breed of females who own neon spandex, thus feeling compelled to wear it on a day drinking bus sojourn. Really, the rest of the bus simply wonders if they bought spandex neon for any other reason. I mean, this isn’t an Eric Prydz video, this shit is real life. I digress. They are the explosively bright riders who obviously know how to party, and have the physique necessary (ie- not fat) to wear neon spandex without getting hypothetically kicked off, by society, or physically thrown off, by the rest of the bus.

c. Dormis Comatosis

While the bus is mid-song and full rage, an odd realization dawns upon one of the Alphas. “Wait a minute, I know I’m hammered, but isn’t (for this blog’s sake, we’ll say Maxwell) on this bus?!” Sure enough, lost in the shuffle of glory, is the fact that Maxwell has decided to get all fetal in the back of the bus’ pleather crevasse and pass out. Whether he missed the entire last bar stop, or simply dozed off for a Kanye-approved half an hour nap, will be forever lost in the annals of party bus lore. What matters is that he rallies. If not, well… 

d. Equus Altitudis

Sickeningly enough, there will be some person who steps onto the bus with the complete wrong attitude: retain some dignity. This person clearly needs to get off their high horse of judging, watching, look at the baby- look at the baby, and realize that the guy/girl taking turns giving each other beer showers are in fact, perfectly smitten. Judge them at your own peril, as you keep your pre-meditated party bus outfit dry and sip on your third beer in four hours. Obviously, based on the description, this species is generally compiled of the hot girl(s) and lame guy(s), because you can’t pick EVERYBODY on your bus, or just some form of the next category.

e. Awkwardae Societus

For whatever reason, God did not give everybody the same ability to be cool. For thisspecies, various social situations leave them wound tighter than the bindings of an Asians woman’s feet. They battle through disjointed conversations with strangers. Struggle from weird sexual angst with the opposite sex. Their gullets constrict when it comes time to take shots, and they generally prefer sitting in the back rather than standing by the pole in the front. Regardless, you still love them, because they are trying harder than ever, and in all seriousness, there ain’t enough room on a bus for 32 Alphas. Plus, there may be no greater social service on this planet than getting this species drunk enough to witness them pull a wildcard and turn Alpha right before your eyes. Like a Phoenix rising from the ashes. Some Mother Theresa shit right there.

It just felt like a good time for some Kim.

f. Immigrantus Cohabitatus

If you read this species and thought to yourself, “hold up, there’s migrant day workers hopping on this bus?!” well, you’re an idiot. This species is reserved for those friends traveling from out of town for the sole purpose of a bus rage. Ironically, they most likely took a treacherous bus ride to get there. Sitting next to an actual illegal immigrant and battling the constant back-of-bus urine/stool waft, they promised themselves they’d never take another bus, again. Thankfully, party buses only reek of beer, whiskey and of course, AMERICA!

#2 THE iTUNDE PLAYLIST

The iTunde is obviously what we name our iPod playlist since our friendly neighborhood brotha, Tunde, has final say on any and all song additions. Now, unfortunately for you, Tunde may not be your friend and it might be a little uncomfortable to just send him a rando fb message inquiring for his aid on your bus’ playlist. Let me first say, I’m sorry. It is truly a shame you aren’t friends with the greatest Tunde I know. Now, since I’m super white, I’m not even going to attempt to tell you what to do. However, I also lived through this day and can clearly recall exact quotes from Tunde in breaking down his playlist preparation. So I’ll simply allow those to dictate our easy steps to making an iTunde.

Tundes gotten this look from many a white girl (miss you, young Britney!).

Step 1: “Listen man, you gotta have the white girl anthems!” Katy? Britney? Rihanna? Fergie? Rebecca Black? Welp… GANG’S ALL HERE! One of the most important aspects of any iTunde is to keep the white girls excited. You don’t want to include these artists because you’re too macho? Fine. Just know that you do this at the risk of jeopardizing your popularity in the white girl demographic. And we all know Tunde would never jeopardize his standing with white girls.

Step 2: “Look brah, ain’t nobody drunk at the beginning of the ride, so ain’t nobody singing along. Now’s when we can play jams white girls don’t know!” Ahhh, the classic caveat. I know what you’re thinking and the answer is, no, Tunde did not get a degree in psychology. He simply knows the inner psyche of any bus rider during their day along his DJ’ing journey. Slip in the lesser known, but still widely entertaining songs now, before white girls get drunk and the scene turns ugly (not visually, just, well you get it). Some suggestions: Wiz Khalifa’s “Big Screen,” Tinie Tempah’s “Written in the Stars,” and Rick Ross’ “Free Mason” to name just a few.

Step 3: “After hour two, people are starting to get pretty drunk, so you gotta hit those mothauffas with CLASSICS.” After some slightly more mellow times due to sobriety, the juices are flowing, and these songs just get everyone fired up. We’re talking Jay Z “Public Service Announcement,” Nelly “Shake Ya Tailfeather,” Biggie “Juicy,” and even some now less popular songs that used to top the iTunde charts back in ’07 like JT’s “Ayo Technology.” Also, feel free to use this time to play whatever Lonely Island song is en vogue at the time (“I Just Had Sex” or “I’m on a Boat” at ANY time).

She might not be featured on the iTunde, but her backside gets love from the blog.

Step 4: “I mean, by now people are damn near blacked out, so we gotta just get the bitch HYPED!” It is at this juncture in the bus trip that any good iTunde changes it from “amazing” to “Only Heaven’s Right Above It” as people are ripping shirts off, soaking each other in beer and raging til the cows come home. You’re obviously playing Lil Wayne, but some other songs that just turn a bus euphoric are, David Guetta’s “Give Me Everything Tonight,” Kid Cudi’s “Memories,” Kanye’s “Power Remix,” and a lesser known iTunde sleeper, Martin Solveig’s, “Hello,” just to name a few.

Step 5: “On the ride home, it really doesn’t matter what you play because there ain’t a CATDAMN person on the bus that’s remembering it.” Literally. I dare you to recall songs played in the final victory lap of your bus. It’s all just a blur of awesomeness clouded by hugs and high fives and arguing over where the bus drops everyone off. However, there may be a straggling sober person who fell into either the high-horse rider or the socially awkward categories. You never allow them to think you’re less cool, so just stuff the back end (that’s what she said) of your iTunde with more awesome songs that didn’t make the cut. Older Kanye, Jay Z, Will Smith, Donna Lewis, you get the gist.

#3 BAR SELECTION

The first major mistake that can be made during today’s journey is the seemingly obvious fact that getting off the bus will not be as much fun. That doesn’t mean steps can’t be taken to ensure the best possible time at bars you do stop at during the day. Unfortunately, the rest of society isn’t as awesome as all your friends, and may not be out at a bar day-drinking. The good news is, sports fans will be out day-drinking, because the only thing better than watching sports, is watching them drunk. Thankfully, with some minor sporting event research, you can go to the local ballpark or arena bars so that you aren’t all drinking alone.

You also may be wondering, “Why even get off the bus in the first place?” Here, there are two simple answers. One: the bus driver won’t just drive you around for six straight hours burning gas at 4 bucks a gallon and 10 miles per gallon. Two: where there is large beer consumption, there is a painful need to urinate without tearing a bladder. Sadly, not everyone on the bus can take turns getting boxed out by friends while they blast in and around the narrow mouth of a Poland Spring water bottle. This only works for a select few guys, who have no qualms soaking themselves rather than inducing a hernia from holding it. Guess you can consider me Miles Davis!

#4 FOOD

By mid-afternoon, no matter how many flavors of chips you have stocked on the bus, 32 riders will be hungrier than Somalia. In this most primal of needs, riders will do whatever it takes to nourish their body. Fortunately, the bus stops frequently enough to prevent cannibalism. Unfortunately, once the bus stops, keeping people in and around your bus can become challenging. Whether it’s the guys who have set out to find freshly grilled street meat from a sausage vendor, or some girls going to a Wagamama, everybody will struggle to make it back to the bus. For the record, I have no idea what a “Wagamama” is, but girls on our most recent bus stalked this place out, and from pictures and descriptions, they serve fresh-cut weeds in a mud sautee, and wash it down with grass-infused rain water. The key point here is to make sure your riders know to buddy up, keep in touch with someone staying near the bus, or have the bus driver on speed dial like the girl who drunkenly made friends with him (for this blog’s sake, we’ll call her an Izzabell).

#5. HOOK UPS

In one of the great sociological experiments of today’s day and age, the party bus represents a rolling petri dish of sexual pharimones. Any time you have a near-equal number of bros and hos on your bus, the natural mating rituals will take place. Amplify that by alcohol, and you are bound to get some conversations that go a lot like this:

Guy: “Hey, you uhh, I really like you’re shirt. How it like falls off your shoulder like that, but it’s DESIGNED to do that. Hot shit.”

Girl: “Oh my gah. Really?! That’s sooo funny, because like, I was trying to figure out what to wear on this bus, like FOREVER.”

Guy: “Well uhh, no, no… you totally made the right choice. I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but I’ve sort of had a crush on you ever since you were the only chick who shotgunned that beer with all of us!”

Girl: “Can I (eyes roll into head), can I tell you a secret? Shhh (violently pokes mouth with index finger), but I think you’re totally hot.”

Guy: “For real?! Wow, do you like, want to go back to the Den and play some Catch Phrase?!”

Girl: “Ughhh, I thought you’d like NEVER ASK!”

Andddd… SCENE. Boom. Hook up complete. Party bus over. Blog done. Stay Tuned.

Sorry, hate to end it abruptly, but I lost every part of this blog from beyond the introduction paragraph and had to re-write it all. It is probably my life’s biggest regret ranking just ahead of majoring in Broadcast Journalism and not going to either an SEC or Pac-10 school.

Yup. Pac-10.