More think than you drunk i am

This past week saw the passing of another "Hostel Night", our yearly testament to the ability of adolescents on the throes of adulthood to relinquish any semblance of self-control and willingly submit to the joys of public inebriation, in an astonishing mockery of the expectations that are believed to burden those studying in a college, which according to CBS TV's '60 Minutes' programme, is "Harvard, MIT and Princeton all rolled into one." (hehe, funny that)

This being my first such occasion in my present hostel of residence, I was a little unsure of what exactly to expect. I might even have been excused for believing it was going to be a nice put-your-feet-up-and-relax evening, especially after the rendition of a few songs by some of my co-residents in wonderful spirit, even if the original singers might have cringed in their graves at the attempt. Even the food, in all fairness, wasn't too bad. Given the kind of rubbery rot that is the norm in our mess halls, we quite appreciate any change.

As the night wore on, and the programmes on stage grew more tedious, the bottles and rolled up sheets of tobacco (and marijuana, i would think) came out, and thus began the great orgy of bacchanalia. And poor lonely teetotaller that i am, all i could do was watch as one bottle after another was emptied down some dying liver, and one man after another began lolling around and dropping off like bowling pins.

It made me sick.

P.S
Incidentally, the hostel night is the only occasion when girls are allowed inside the hostel premises.
Thats a rant for another day.

P.P.S
If I met you on a train going from Budapest to Paris , and was getting off a couple of stops before you , in Vienna , would you get off the train and spend one single night with me walking the streets of Vienna, talking about life, the universe and everything , until dawn breaks and our paths diverge forever?