Alcohol may warm the toes, but not the heart
My first Thanksgiving away from my home and family offered quite a different scene than the usual giving of thanks that I experienced back East. My roommate (a.k.a. the Turkey), a bunch of our college friends, and I got together to celebrate Turkey Day. We each were assigned something to bring and, since my talented cooking skills have been widely appreciated and known throughout the valley, I was assigned to make the sangria. Unfortunately, I did not realize that sangria does not make itself so when the time came for the dinner party, wine and vodka had to suffice.
Although everyone else cooked spectacular dishes, the warm, homey feeling was still not quite the same as it used to be with my family. Instead of saying grace we started out the meal by singing the words to the first song on our Thanksgiving mix … Sir Mix-A-LOT’s “Baby Got Back” (“I like big butts and I cannot lie. You other brother’s can’t deny …”). Instead of giving toasts for the people we are thankful for we made everyone at the dinner party give a toast that involved making a rule (such as you can only drink with your left hand or you have to make up a dirty nickname for the person to the left of you). So far the scene was already set for a very mature un-college-like evening.
After dinner, we surpassed the many delicious pies awaiting us for some intense drinking games to the board game Cranium. At this point we were sipping on PBRs out of wine glasses, so I do not believe any actual rules were followed and the board game quickly waned into simply chugging your wine glass anytime the dice was rolled. Our attention span diminished after we finished the case of PBRs and we all decided that it was definitely time to move on to another house party.
We arrived at the house already in a state to be reckoned with to find that we were coming into a family get-together. The parents shortly retreated to their soundproof bedroom, however, so I felt no need to hold back. As I got up on the karaoke machine to first rap out a Thanksgiving beat and then to initiate a dance-off between two sets of brothers, the father poked his head out of his securely soundproof room to nicely suggest that perhaps it was time to move on. Apparently it wasn’t soundproof enough to block out the reverberating beats of my rapping skills. At this point my roomie, Turkey, had already decided to escape the party on foot and find her way back to our apartment. Well, on our way to “a place where the beer flows like wine,” The George, we found the full, drunk Turkey waiting for the bus (just not at an actual bus stop). We decided to call it an evening after that and succumb to the sleep-induced effects of the L-tryptophan in the turkey and the booze in our bellies.
Thanksgiving in Vail with my friends was similar to Thanksgiving back East with my family in the fact that we celebrated it on the last Thursday of November and that we ate turkey. Although very different both are equally special in their own ways … at home we give thanks and appreciation to those we care about, out here we cared about thanking ourselves for a great party.
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