And thus, Unofficial passes.

This year, unlike any before, I decided to actually partake in some festivities. I started drinking at around 7:00, which is incredibly late considering the 8:00 AM start time most revelers stick to. Thoroughly toasty, I decided, as I am wont to do, to build myself a robot costume and walk around campus. In three short hours of work, I had completed Drunkbot v 2.0, the finest in cardboard/human interface. Lighter and much less bulkier, this new costume sets the standard for drunkenly hobbling around in a box. I fused together an Aveeno skin care display box and the lid to a Dole fruits crate into this sort of upper-torso armor. On my right hand, I proudly wore my Nintendo Power Glove, while on my left, an ordinary mitten topped with a flashlight. The flashlight was gelled pink, and would serve me well as a death ray. Over the top of all of this, I wore my 8-bit tie and a pair of suspenders. I was ready.

I had called my friend Kyle, as he is particularly fond of antics such as this, and he invited me to the party he was at. The party he was at that was almost two miles away. Undeterred, I departed, with visiting Kyle a distant thought in my mind. A secondary objective, if you will. My mindset for the night demanded that I enjoy the trip, and that I would.

Drunkbot was received with much fanfare. Quickly, trends in the reactions of passersby emerged. Drinks were thrown at me. My Power Glove was recognized. A favorite was to simply call me "box man." High-fives were a staple of the night. The few encountered that would have ended unfavorably for me were deftly managed with a mix of humor and my flashlight death ray. In front of a frat by Green Street, a reveler decided that he wanted to, and I quote, "eat my cardboard." I spun around and barraged him with my death ray. He stopped and fell to the ground, and to the uproarious laughter of his comrades, I ran off.

I eventually reached Kyle's party, and he briefly met me outside before running back into the crowded apartment where he had left a game of beer pong. Stranded, I floundered. Walking through campus town and throwing high fives around as people pass by is one thing. Standing on a porch full of people that I don't know who don't instantly accept my costume as awesome is unbearable. So, I booked it. Now aimless, I meandered around, my experiences with the drunk populace more or less the same as before. In front of a student certified housing dorm, two guys had me stop and hang out with them, which really just meant high-fiving them over and over while yelling about killing all humans. They furnished me with a Red Bull, and I departed. Kyle, who had not seen me leave, called, and told me to find the new party that he was at. The journey resumed, I tried desperately to find my way around a part of campus town that I have never been familiar with. I navigate primarily by landmark, and with none in sight, I was doomed to walk around in circles. Kyle and I kept calling each other, and despite being what I assume was a matter of a few hundred feet from one another, I was unable to locate him before my phone died.

Lost, and with no form of communication, I resigned myself to continuing my march to nowhere, spreading the gospel of being dressed as a robot. When my phone disconnected, I lowered it from my ear to look at the screen, grimaced, put it back into my pocket, and upon looking up found that I had wandered into a group of about seven cops. There was a brief moment of silent confusion, as we all sized each other up. One of them asked me what I was dressed as. Rallying from my initial shock, I replied "I . . . am . . . a robot!" They all smiled and had me show them the ins and outs of the outfit, while one of them wandered around behind me, getting a full view of my cardboard glory. Putting on an very fake Brooklyn cop accent, he said. "I see that you've got a, ah, Dole fruits box on yer back there. I don't think that the Dole corporation would appreciate their property being used like that. Where did you get it?" The other smirked while I put on a face of mock terror and sputtered, "my roommate, officer." He then attempted to ask me where I got it from, but promptly lost his shit, and they all broke down laughing, with me close behind. The defender of the Dole corporation patted me on my back, and told me to have a good one. I thanked them for being out that night, and told them to have a great rest of the evening. I love campus cops.

Stumbling upon First Street, I picked a direction and walked in it until I was stopped by a group waiting for the bus. I was put to the usual line of questioning concerning what and why I was before being accepted as one of them. A guy in a John Deer hat who I later learned to be named Andrew asked me to go to a party with him. He was waiting for the bus, but when it came, he told me that I had to get on with him. Now, this was about the eighth party invitation I'd gotten, and wasn't really feeling it. I was having a pretty good time just wandering around, so I politely declined. Besides, I didn't want to deal with bus drivers who didn't want me getting on their bus in the bulkiest costume imaginable. He was sad. We continued chatting, and I mentioned that I was a theatre student. He asked me if I knew Sean Wilson, and I said yes. Sean is a Senior lighting designer and good buddy of mine, a friendship that was cemented the day we ran out second-to-last tech of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying drunk off of our asses. (Spoiler: It was our best show.) Andrew called Sean to verify this, and I actually heard Sean, on the other line, scream "I FUCKING LOVE IAN." Clearly, Sean had been drinking. As Andrew hung up, the bus pulled up and opened it's doors. He grabbed me by my helmet, and, while saying "You're coming to this thing," pulled me in. I immediately looked at the driver and apologized, and she just smiled and said it was fine. Victory.

We rode to Green and Illinois, which was a few block from my apartment, and walked over to Sean's place. We burst in, Andrew yelling about finding a robot, and me hastily filling in the gaps in his story. Sean saw me from across the room, and I don't think I've ever seen such a look of glee on another human being. I walked into the dining room and right into none other than Colleen Daniel, a scenic designer who had graduated the year prior. She was there with her friend Leslie, and the three of us hung out in Sean's room, drinking 312 and catching up for about an hour. When the party had winded down, Colleen checked on the pull-out bed in the living room to lay out her stuff to stay the night. Sadly, two girls had passed out on it, sitting on opposite sides of the couch with their heads meeting in the middle. I suggested staying at my apartment, to which they very thankfully agreed.

So, imagine this from the perspective of my roommates, who were sitting on Pete's room when I came back that night. I had left the apartment dressed as a robot, and drunk. I had returned with two very attractive girls who followed me straight up to my room.

Granted, we spent the rest of the night catching up, and they fell asleep on a blow-up mattress set up on my floor.

Regardless, best Unofficial ever.