One Night on Leisure Lane

It was Saturday February 27th and it was raining. As usual in Manhattan Beach the probability of a good night did not look so probable. As I lay on the couch I feel something in my pants.

My phone is vibrating. It was Jerry Kush, "G Kush" as the homies refer to him. I answer with a simple, "Herro?" Jerry and I partake in polite small talk before he drops the bomb on me. Cue song.



Isler Vister he says in a rough mockery of an Australian accent. Wait... the Isler Vister? Where the beer flows like wine and the women smell like the salmon of Capistrano? Where as local legend Sabotaj put it, "They pre-party harder than you party?" IV, as the locals call it, is a place where soody happens, a place fit for a teeen muuuuuhhhmmm, a place where one third of the town is familiar with the term STD. Most guys cannot handle IV.

I want to kiss him through the phone. Props Soulja Boi Tell'em. Yes! I shout as tears of joy streak down my face, I tell him to pick me up in 30 minutes.

3:00- We begin our voyage
3:07- We make a quick stop to pick up a young athletic looking male of Greek descent that, if necessary, could easily pass for Persian

On the way we encounter an enchating rainbow beyond the lush rolling green hills that border the US 101 freeway.

We think, what if leprechauns were real? If not, then what do you call an Irish midget? And why did the gays have to steal and claim such beauty from the rest of the hetero world?

4:40- Fat Bottomed Girls by Queen blares on the radio, Freddy Mercury has the voice of an angel
4:40-Passerbys look strangly at the three young males packed tightly in a small white Ford, more so at the Greek who dons a "phresh" Vanilla Ice hair cut

The car ride continues, Motley Crue's greatest hits play on the stereo. The Greek complaines of discomfort in the back seat.

5:16- Three outsiders enter "IV."

Upon entering the small coastal town we turn North and navigate the small streets until we come to Fortuna Lane, or as the locals call it, "Leisurely Lane." This will be our destination for the night.

We enter and are greeted with warm gestures and plenty of slap and bump bro shakes. We relax and enjoy the company of friends and wait for the night.

8:07- First beers are cracked
8:27- Caps begins and drinking hastens
9:20- I notice road bikes, fancy film cameras, and electro music. Where am I? Leisure Lane? Then the kegs arrive.

As guests begin to enter the cozy one story house one man enters holding a 36-pack of Monster Energy drink, I guess its official, the party just started.

DJ Shortdawg begins to spin his patented mix of musical sextacy that has substance fueled youth goin crazy. At least no one is going dumb. As the music grinds so do the party-goers.

 I am interrupted by a small Blonde Jewish boy who feels the need to tell me he is rolling. "Awesome," I reply, and notice his beak shaped nose. I think about ecstacy momentarily, then cocaine.

10:05- I have not yet stumbled into coke room
10:15- Meet woman
10:25- Vodka of the gods please

The house is now packed, Men>Women. I question a member of the Jewish American Water Polo team about his experience in the Maccabiah Games. Then of pros and cons of hereditary traits. Jew-fro, does it create drag? Circumcision, streamlined?

10:30-11:30- Party continues, Greek receives Facebook mobile alert
11:40- Reengage woman, leave party

During this time a man has an encounter with a wandering hand/finger mid fellatio, he did not enjoy this. Hand is slapped away.

12:30- Return to party

I see Greek Vanilla Ice and make my way towards his position to the right of DJ Shortdawg.

12:32- Yet to find coke room

He informs me he must leave and re-kindle lost love. The Greek leaves and is not seen for the remainder of the night, he is making love. One may think love cannot exist in a place like Isla Vista. Yet amongst the binge drinking angels of this small college town he has found a gem. He sees the sunset in her blue eyes. Like Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing, the Greek is in love, he has found his Frances "Baby" Houseman.

From here on the party winds down. Guests leave, the music stops, and empty handed males drown sexual desires with bong loads. I walk outside to discuss Nikki Sixx and Heroine abuse with Griffandor, a young man with delightful red hair. He informs me Gene Simmons has never drank or used drugs. Gene Simmons has also slept with over 9,000 women.

1:20- Head back inside

I find a room full of shit-housed men singing along as a lone guitar player strums and wails the lyrics to an Against Me song. I join.

1:30-3:00- More drinks, more songs, more good times
3:10- It is bed time

I walk into garage for purpose of attaining prime sleeping position atop a vodka soaked couch. No worries, its just college right?

4:20- Fuck, I am woken by the sounds of a fellow party guest spewing, having himself a Ralph Nader. Some guys just cant handle IV.

8:30- Wake up time

Alright time to get the fuck out... Wait? What is that I see over yonder? Not 10 feet from my couch I see Jerry and another man sharing a bed. Did they? I sure hope not, they could have at least hung a sheet.

9:15- We leave Isla Vista.... we don't find coke room

-The Zef Ninja