Desi Parties

Aaaah yes, the Desi Party. Where you wait in line, till your hands go numb, and hope to grind on a drunk Indian girl before her friends spot you and pull you away. I feel in today's day and age the desi party is almost a right of passage of Indian College Students in America. This right of passage is present everywhere, however, in the NY/NJ area it is very prevalent. For those of you who may not know, "Desi" is a slang term for Indian, and a "Desi" party is one that is predominantly Indian. The DJ is Indian, the attendees are Indian, however the bouncer is always Black (usually a big dude).

I remember my first Desi Party like it was yesterday. I was too cheap to pay for the coat check so I waited in line without a coat on a January night in New York. The bouncer kept yelling at people to form a line, and being that everyone was Indian, nobody could understand this concept. There was always 1 or 2 Indian guys with cell phones or walkie talkies going in and out of the place like they were important and there were always hords of idiots trying to tell them that they are important and worthy of entry. "Bro, I'm Samir's girlfriend's brother. he didn't tell you I was coming?" Retarded phrases such as these fill the air, and undoubtedly result in the Indian with the walkie talkie telling the Bouncer "I don't know him. Unless he's got like 6 girls with him, he doesn't get in". Of course, by doing this he was only teasing the poor bastard.

My favorite part of Desi Parties is all the planning involved. First you lookup the party (http://www.desiparty.com/), then you find out who is going. As a guy, the critical thing was to always try to roll with girls, so you didn't look like a loser. You finally decide on a place to pre-game and off you go. The doors open at 10 PM but because your Desi - just to be safe you show up at 9, and the line is already half way down the block. You wait, and wait, and finally the group in front of you gets in. Just when you begin to give up hope you hear those magical words "Let me see your ID please". With shivering hands you give the bouncer your id, and get your ticket. At this point you've never been so glad to pay $20 to walk into a place. Finally, you step foot inside the club and out of the cold, and its a huge family re-union.

Off to the bar you go! Some SoCo and Lime shots are downed (manly enough, and weak enough for the Indian tolerance). The music is always pretty good, and you like a gazelle in the wild you look for your prey. An Indian girl who happen to be dancing by herself. You soon realize this is not the case, and they only travel in packs. So then you chug your drink, and go behind an unsuspecting lady with your liquid confidence. Slowly you approach her. She's not looking and neither are her friends. You make your move! You rush behind her before any other guy can and start violently banging your crotch against her behind in hopes of serenading her. She turns around and gives you a sign that you may continue. Your in! You'v e captured your prey. Your feeling victorious. Just before you let out the Johnny Drama Victory yell, you've been spotted by her friend. She does the unthinkable. She grabs the girl away from you and leaves you by yourself.

In conclusion, this cycle is repeated many times. Each time your dissed the number of shots taken increases. Then in order to hold your head up high the Dj plays Bhangra and you find your boys and dance as if that was what you went for in the first place.