The Biggest Party I've Ever Been To... At My House.

Those of you who were there, and that's a lot of you, will know exactly what night I'm referring to.  Wednesday, August 4th, 2010. 

*This is a longer post.  It's in five parts:

1. The Planning

2. The Party Itself

3. The Aftermath

4. Dad comes home early

5. That time I stole $200 from my father because I was a spoiled brat who always got my own way.

ENJOY!

Part 1 - The Planning

Daddy was in New York, Mommy was in India.
My thought process in the days leading up to the party: "Parents aren't even in the country.  Obviously I'm going to throw a party.  But not just ANY party - the BIGGEST PARTY ANYONE HAS EVER BEEN TO!" 
That summer, I had thrown a few parties, but none of them exceeded 40ish people.  Plans were set - I texted every contact in my phone.  Told coworkers at Wendy's.  Created a facebook event for it in which I invited everyone within a two hour radius of Bridgewater.  This was going to be big.
And you know what.
It was.
I prepared well - I moved all breakables and valuables out into the garage, just to be safe.  Signs declaring "off-limits" decorated several doors all over the house.  I purchased liquor (I don't even remember how, I was fucking 16), but was responsible enough to decide I wouldn't drink until I got a feel for how busy the party actually turned out to be.  My mother texted me from India saying she heard I was throwing a party... I denied her suspicions.

Part 2 - The Party Itself

Some close friends came early.  Then everyone else started pouring in.
I would estimate that over 200 people came to my house last night.  Here's a rundown of the, well, highlights of that night:
- I didn't end up drinking.  By 9:00pm I decided it was already out of control and stayed sober.  All night.
- Some bitch threw a bunch of beer bottles in my driveway.  One of my supervisors from work chased her down with a shovel, her boyfriend beat up the boyfriend of the girl doing the throwing.
- A group of guys from Maine (yes, as in the STATE) showed up.
- There were many fights.  Most notable, one that took place on the back of my father's truck.
- I had to leave the party briefly to take my friend Jessica to the hospital, due to her stepping on glass from the bottle-throwing bitch from before.
- OBVIOUSLY, the police came.  Cars were lined up and down my entire street.  It was only a matter of time.  I wouldn't let him inside unless he had a warrant (proud of myself!) but he stuck around in the driveway to make sure nobody drank and drove.
- When the cops were there, my friend Norma told me about this girl who she was hiding from the cops with, who couldn't get caught drinking - she was already on probation.
- I think a lot of people had a lot of sex in the guest rooms.  I changed the sheets the next day.

Part 3 - The Aftermath

Holes were punched in the upstairs hallway wall.  I made the mistake of letting people wear shoes inside... aka, the living room carpet was disgusting.  An end table laid in pieces on the floor.  Every towel in the house had been used by people who went in the pool.  Every towel, that's like 100 towels (we had a lot of towels).  Most of said towels littered around the yard.  Bottles, cans, everything, just everywhere.
Essentially... the house was trashed.  Dad would be home in three days.  It was time to get to work.
I loaded all the glasses in the dishwasher.  Once it was full, a very hungover girl came in and washed the rest by hand.  Loved her.  Friends scoured the yards, collecting trash, bottles, the shovel my supervisor used to chase the bottle thrower, and the towels. A friend who worked at a hardware store got me discounted supplies to fix the holes in the drywall, then proceeded to fix them for me.
I had spent nearly 30 straight hours cleaning the house, then had to work for 6.  While I was at work, some friends went to the house and scrubbed the kitchen and dining room floors.  I have great friends.
The next day I called in professional carpet cleaners, who said they were available to come in that afternoon... thank god.  Dad would be home the next day - the end of the cleaning process was in sight, and I knew I would be able to finish before he got home.
As the carpet cleaners cleaned, I was out sorting the hundreds of bottles and cans that we had collected.  THAT'S WHEN DAD CAME HOME A FULL FUCKING DAY EARLY.

Part 4 - Dad comes home early

The house still wasn't fully cleaned... there was really no hiding what had happened.  For God's sake, there were HIRED CARPET CLEANERS IN THE LIVING ROOM.  Once they left, and I shelled out the money to pay them, dad yelled for like 45 minutes then declared he was taking a nap.
Well fuck him I thought.  I spent nearly 200 dollars on the aftermath of this party.  The house was actually pretty SPOTLESS.  It was CLEANER than it was when he left for New York.  LIKE FUCKING HELL I'M OUT TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS!  I did what any spoiled, over-entitled sixteen-year-old would do.

Part 5 - That time I stole $200 from my father because I was a spoiled brat who always got my own way.

I'm not really proud of what I did here.  It was three years ago, so... whatever.  I'll tell ya.  He still doesn't know about this.
He took a nap because yelling apparently tired him out.  I was enraged - I was the one who should be tired, I just threw the biggest party anyone has ever been to, cleaned NON STOP, and on top of everything, WORKED!  I deserve reimbursement for my hardships.  
My friend who helped me fix the walls came over.  Dad was deep in his slumber.  My plan was set in motion.  I went into his room.  Opened his wallet.  Took out his debit card.  He woke up. 
"What are you doing!" he growled.
"Uhh... nothing," was my brilliant response.
*incoherent babbling from a sleepy Mark Power*
He went back to sleep.
I took the card into Bridgewater with my friend.  Withdrew the $200 I felt entitled to.  Bought my friend and I supper with the card.  Then went home, and put the card back in his wallet.
Vindication.

The next day, I had to work.  I looked out the drive-thru window to see my father storming into the store looking like he's going to kill someone.
He asks the manager to speak to me... I go up to the counter.
"DID YOU TAKE MY DEBIT CARD!?!?!"
"Um, no?  Why would I take your debit card?"
"WELL IT'S NOT IN MY WALLET, SOMEONE MUST HAVE STOLEN IT AT YOUR PARTY"
At this point, I strongly resisted the urge to call him a fucking idiot and point out that he had his wallet IN NEW YORK WITH HIM, HOW WOULD ANYONE STEAL IT?  But I bit my tongue and instead...
"Well... did you even use it in New York?  Maybe you put it in a different pocket by accident?"
"Oh... one second."

He looks on the other side of his wallet.  I had put it on the wrong side by mistake.  Before I could say anything, he goes: "oh, here it is.  I must have put it here while I was travelling, and then forgot!"

Beautiful.

ANYWAY!  If you read this, that's the story of the biggest party I've ever been to, and it was at my own house.  I never throw a party that big again, and a word of caution for anyone thinking of throwing the "party of the year" ... don't do it.  Just don't.