I'll be there for you, these five words I swear to you

The Rules:

1. No taking the boat out.
2. No sex in any of the bedrooms.
3. No swimming without a buddy.
4. No excessive noise outside. A cop lives next door.
5. No driving home.
6. No flushing on a #1.
7. No throwing marshmallows into the lake.
8. No smoking in the house, unless it's pot and in that case, only in the house. A cop lives next door.
9. No lighting off fireworks.

These were the rules for Jess and Julie's Annual Lake House Extravaganza. It was her family's house, but I did all the planning. Mrs. F, Julie, the Heathers and I would usually go up on Friday and spend the whole weekend. The party would be on Saturday. We did it every summer from 9th grade up to three years ago, when a bitter family ownership battle shut down our vacation destination forever. I miss it.

Something always got broken.

People always had sex.

Someone always wandered into the lake alone.

The cop always came out and told us to shut the fuck up. We even have it on videotape.

People always drove home.

Someone always disrupted the plumbing system.

The night always ended with Julie, Mrs. F, a Heather and I out in the boat, singing Bon Jovi songs at the top of our lungs and passing around a joint, lit sparklers in hand. I don't advise trying to light a joint with a sparkler, incidentally. When the sparklers went out, we'd see who could throw a marshmallow the farthest.