UI Students Pregame at Unimpaired

[Disclaimer: This particular journalist had one too many Shirley Temples before writing this piece. If this article is bad, even by usual standards, blame it on the grenadine.]

Woohoo! It’s spring break, y’all! I don’t know about all of you, but I am ready to get properly sloshed. However, since my parents refuse to let me back into their home ever since the incident, I plan on making the emptied Iowa City my playground. On my most recent nights out, I’ve found others following a similar line of thought as I. There’s my pal, Body Shot Bobby, who’s been barred from at least twelve establishments in the past week, and recently I’ve become quite close with a lass by the name of Geena Virgina, who always insists on saying grace before every shot she takes. She’s weird, but at least all that praying has made her good at getting down on her knees.

Last night, I met a raucous group of partiers that, in my long history of questionable behavior, are some of the wildest individuals I’ve ever met. When I first came across them, these five friends already seemed to be pretty tipsy, their heavy-lidded eyes blinking slowly and an uncentered line of walking that suggested they were trying to get away from a gator of sorts. Two of the most visibly inebriated of the bunch were the young man that kept dying in Subway Surfers because he expected the game to play itself and the young lady that stood in front of Uncle Sun for fifteen minutes staring at the spinning light on the sidewalk. Their handler, Becca, managed to wrangle them all together long enough for me to question them as a whole.

Me: You seem to be quite accustomed to the nightlife of downtown Iowa City.

Becca: Oh, yeah. We all like to go out basically every night and party until we have classes the next day. I make sure to have all of my morning classes with really boring professors so that when I pass out in the middle of lecture, I’m not the only one falling asleep.

Me: Do you guys have a favorite spot that you like to hit up?

Becca: For sure! There’s this underground dive bar that we all like to go to, you’ve probably never heard of it. It’s called Unimpaired.

Me: Unimpaired? The… the dry bar?

Becca: You know it? That’s so cool! We actually just got some drinks there a half an hour ago. See, we’re going to this party in a bit that’s supposed to be a major rager, and we don’t want to be the lame, sober party poopers.

Me: So you went pregaming at Unimpaired???

Becca: Yes, and it was a blast! You know, we still have some time before the party starts, you should come with us! We’re kind of famous there, so we can definitely get you free drinks.

Despite my better judgment–which, admittedly, wasn’t great in the first place–I went with the group to Unimpaired to see what all the hullabaloo was about. For the first few rounds of drinks, I felt exactly the same, and most of the other patrons seemed like they were doing normally as well. The group I was with, though, were losing their minds with every drink they pounded. I couldn’t tell what was going on for the life of me, and I didn’t know whether or not I should chalk it up to the placebo effect or some strange inherited allergy to energy drinks that they all seemed to have. Eventually, I gave up hanging around the gang and engaging with their shared hysteria and decided to leave. As I opened the door and took a step out of the building, I blacked out.

I woke up the next morning on the floor of Beadology, laying in a pool of liquid that was either my drool or my piss, Body Shot Bobby right beside me. I had no memory of what had happened the night after leaving Unimpaired. Were Becca and her gang right all along? Was there something in the Unimpaired drinks that made you extra wasted? All I know is that Bobby Shot Bobby and I have now increased the number of bans placed against us by at least three. Spring Break!!!