During the week, living at Deerfield Village is pretty good. It’s quiet and I can get homework done. I can actually hear myself think.
Weekends are a different story, though. As the week ends and Thursday slowly creeps up, I think to myself “Here we go, another unbearable weekend of yelling and obnoxiously loud music.”
And I’m always right. Some weekends, like MSU/CMU weekend and Welcome Weekend (along with the upcoming Western weekend) are worse than others. In fact, they’re some of the worst experiences I’ve had to go through here.
The weekends usually start off with some people throwing a football around the parking lot and maybe blasting some terribly banal country music from their blown out speakers and bad stereo systems.
As Thursday night rolls into Friday morning, things go back to normal. Some students (like me) still have class so they drag themselves, often hungover and sleep deprived, out of bed.
Once their obligations to their classes are over with, their most important obligations to partying, drinking and screaming “woo!” every minute of their increasingly drunken night come to the surface.
Friday nights are when the party really gets started in Deerfield Village.
Cabs roll in and out at all hours of the night, carrying hordes of drunken girls wearing little to nothing and guys who would rather “hit that” than hit the books.
People are rowdier than the night before. It’s like the alcohol they buy gives them a superpower to yell slurred speech at absurdly loud volumes across the parking lot, and to rev their truck or car’s engine for what seems like hours outside my window.
Annoyance is an understatement some nights while I try to sleep or try to get homework done.
Just the other night, at 4:30 a.m. or so, a drunken person came to my front door and incessantly banged on it and rang the door bell for about five minutes straight.
At first I was a little freaked out, but then I realized it was just another drunk buffoon stumbling through the Deerfield Village parking lot late at night looking for another party, or probably just being a nuisance.
Maybe this equates to me being boring.
People outside my window don’t care about my lack of partying though. On weekends, all they care about is the next beer, the next party and the next chance to scream “woo!” outside my window.
Just another night and just another weekend.