Now that Jesse and I have been up there for a few visits (including for
our wedding), I can’t help but notice the similarities between this resort
community and a college campus for grownups. Suncadia is quite new, and so most of the
homeowners in the area are still fairly young, much like my parents (young in comparison to retirees, Mom and Dad. Don't get all excited about being called 'young'). They all plan
to retire there “someday,” but for most of them, that someday won’t be coming for a good ten or
fifteen years yet. So what you’ve got is a bunch of weekend warriors in their early 50's
who drive up every Friday night and spend the rest of the weekend
partying.
So basically … it’s college. Here's how:
Everyone Hoards Alcohol
The nearest stores to buy booze are a good fifteen minutes’
drive away, which we all know is way too far for a late night beer run. Thus, Suncadia’s
Weekend Warriors always make sure to pack in enough booze to survive a
months-long siege. If someone firebombed I-90 and trapped everyone up in their homes, they’d last weeks before the first signs of sobriety
began to appear.
It's sort of like in college when your one friend with a fake ID would go to the liquor store: you’d send him with a shopping list a mile long, because who
knows when you’re going to get another chance to stock up? (The difference here
being that, of course, everyone in Suncadia is WELL over the age of 21; they
just don’t want to stop partying long enough to go to the store).
If You Do Something Stupid, Everyone Knows About It
When I was a freshman in college, I lived in a dorm called
New South. One night, another freshman who lived in my dorm got a little too
drunk and belligerent, so his friends locked him in his room. They put him to
bed and barricaded the door, hoping he would just sleep off his belligerence
instead of storming around getting into trouble.
Apparently the guy had other ideas, though. Not content to
remain in bed, he decided to make a break for it. He tied some sheets and
blankets together, then tied them around the leg of his bed and hung this
makeshift rope out the window. He then proceeded to start climbing down this
rope, which led from his third-story window to the lower roof of the building. (No
word on what his plan was to get from the lower roof down to the actual ground another 20 feet below.)
In the end, it didn’t really matter what his plan for getting to the ground was, because his rope was far too short for the amount of distance he was hoping to cover. He got about halfway down before running out of rope, at which point he just let go and dropped down to the lower roof (which was covered in broken glass from drunk students tossing beer bottles out their windows).
In the end, it didn’t really matter what his plan for getting to the ground was, because his rope was far too short for the amount of distance he was hoping to cover. He got about halfway down before running out of rope, at which point he just let go and dropped down to the lower roof (which was covered in broken glass from drunk students tossing beer bottles out their windows).
As one might expect after a 15-20 foot fall, the guy broke his
leg. He then had to stumble drunkenly on a broken leg over shards of glass to
pound on the windows of some first-floor dorm rooms, screaming for help. After this incident, damn near every student at
Georgetown knew that this had happened. For months afterwards, any time
someone recognized him they would shout “HEY, YOU’RE THAT DRUNK IDIOT WHO FELL
OUT HIS WINDOW!” and the guy would just have to nod sadly.
Suncadia plays by the same rules. One night, after some bawdy drinking and shenanigans, some guy decided he was tired and wanted to go
home. So he hopped in his car to slow-crawl the mile or two back to his place.
And he managed to slow-crawl his car right into a ditch. (I picture something
like the steamroller scene in Austin Powers, where the accident happens in such
slow motion that you really have plenty of time to react, but you don’t and so
now your car is in a ditch.)
Crashing at 3mph is really embarrassing.
He managed to get himself home just fine, but he wasn’t able
to get a tow truck up to rescue his car for a day or two. And meanwhile, all
the Weekend Warriors saw his car in the ditch and easily recognized it. And they all
knew what had happened, and they all laughed at him. And I just imagine one
night at the winery, someone shouting “HEY, YOU’RE THAT DRUNK IDIOT WHO DROVE
HIS CAR INTO A DITCH!” and the guy would have to nod sadly because really, that
is exactly what happened.
There are no secrets among Weekend Warriors. If you want to
do something epically stupid, go to Tijuana like a normal person. I hear you can ride a donkey painted like a zebra there.
You Always Invite Too Many People To Stay With You
In college, I had a tiny dorm room, a twin bed, and a roommate. But if I had friends coming to visit DC? "YOU GUYS SHOULD TOTALLY STAY
WITH ME!"
Same as when I would go to visit other friends at college –
we never really planned out the logistics of who would sleep where; we’d just
invite each other and figure it all out later. Because we knew alcohol would be
involved, and when alcohol is involved, you really don’t need a comfortable
place to sleep. A patch of bare floor will do – I’ll use my shoe as a pillow
and my coat as a blanket and I’ll be a-okay.
Over-inviting is also the name of the game up in Suncadia.
There’s a loft above the garage that has a lot of floor space, and we’re
generally of the opinion that there is no limit on how many people could sleep
on that floor if need be. When Jesse and I got married, we had pretty much the
entire wedding party strewn about the room sleeping in various nooks and
alcoves. And it went like this.
We slept like babies.
Karma Means Everyone Takes Care of The Drunk Guy
Unless you never drink or you do drink but you
exercise restraint in everything you do (in which case, why are you reading
this?!), odds are you’ve been “that guy” before: that guy that drinks too much
and loses the ability to function without help.
In college, one night a friend of mine drank too much and
threw up all over himself and his dorm room floor. A couple of us cleaned him up and
put his clothes into the laundry, because that’s how you collect good
drinking-karma. Another night, my roommate was delivered to our door by a complete
stranger, and I put her to bed with a big bottle of water next to her head. Yet
another time, a friend and I discovered a young man sitting up by the
observatory on campus, SOBBING, because he didn’t know where he was. He said he
was visiting a friend and couldn’t find the right dorm.
We figured out where he needed to go and walked him home. These favors would all be repaid over the years when it became my turn to, ahem, be “over-served.”
We figured out where he needed to go and walked him home. These favors would all be repaid over the years when it became my turn to, ahem, be “over-served.”
The same rules of drinking-karma apply in Suncadia (as long as
you don’t drive into any ditches at low speeds). At our wedding reception, one
of our girlfriends decided she was exhausted and wanted to head back to my
parents’ house to get some sleep. Like pretty much everyone else at our wedding
reception, she was drunk. This meant that she left without remembering to tell
anyone she was leaving, and without remembering to ask how to get back to the house.
Now, my parents’ place is only a ten or fifteen minute walk
from the winery where we got married, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for a
drunk person to figure out. But this did not slow my friend down one bit.
She took off walking in what she figured was the right
direction, bobbing and weaving her way down the middle of the road with a
bouquet of flowers in one hand and a champagne flute in the other. The Suncadia
shuttle bus driver saw her and asked her where she was going. She mumbled
something about Jamie’s parents, which was not helpful to him. She
mentioned a wedding. The bus driver, who knows my parents, figured
out that she’d been at our wedding and was trying to get back to their place. So he demanded she get on the bus and then he dropped her off safely at home.
NICE WORK, BUS DRIVER! After all, there are a lot of ways that could have gone wrong:
She must have had good drinking-karma J
Meanwhile, I'm pretty excited for Thanksgiving weekend. We'll all be up there for a good three or four days ...
Better stock up on booze.
Meanwhile, I'm pretty excited for Thanksgiving weekend. We'll all be up there for a good three or four days ...
Better stock up on booze.
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