From the EDGE desk...
Cody Boland
Issue date: 9/23/09 Section: The Edge
Every once in a while it is a man's duty to step out of character and do something a little different. To some this may mean saying hello to the ornery neighbor, but to a guy like me this means attending a foam party at The Forum.
The Forum is an interesting entity. It seems to be the favorite bar for girls to go to and dance, and consequently a popular destination for guys to go to and, erm … dance.
This is made obvious simply from trying to get in. The girls make small talk with the bouncers, while the guys are given a look usually reserved for that friend that everyone just keeps around to make fun of.
Once inside the former movie theater, patrons are greeted with the slowly descending floor, jury-rigged to be flat enough for an ever-increasing amount of wobbly bodies to move to whatever beat their mind happens to hear.
On this specific night, part of that floor was sectioned off like a crime scene with a crew gathered around to await the soapy madness.
As the night grew longer and more people flooded into the walkways, it was finally deemed time to release the foam.
"White mushy stuff, it'll be like dancing in clouds," my misinformed mind spoke to me as I entered the pit.
"My eyes sting and my shirt is soapy," I came to realize as I came in first contact with the bubble bath concoction.
Despite my flood emergency reaction to head to higher ground, I took the old "when in Rome" philosophy - and proceeded to walk amidst some ancient orgy mixed with Mr. Bubble.
Perhaps I am being too hard on this slippery experience. Dancing with the inclusion of foam can teach a person some important things.
Foam falling from the ceiling inclines one to use his hand to cover his drink, which is never a bad thing for a girl at a bar to keep in mind.
Also it keeps you aware of what's in your pockets. As the foam rose precariously close to knee level I began praying to the digital gods that my iPod and cell phone would leave this bubbly bash in working order.
Plus, it keeps the importance of bathing in mind, which quite a few weekend warrior college students can do to remember.
After I did my time in the foam pit I left like the champion of champions. Covered in cleanness, some bouncers handed me my Bud Light towel (because all important bar functions should have a corporate sponsor), and I wiped off while heading outside to my humble abode while congratulating myself on a cultural experience well received.
Naturally it was freezing cold, and shivering to myself amidst the scene of hot dog, pizza and Chinese food setups, I pushed passed a few fellow soap-soaked students to depart for a land of warmth and sleeping.
It wasn't too bad, and hey, I might even do it again.
Although, in that time I should probably learn how to dance.
The Forum is an interesting entity. It seems to be the favorite bar for girls to go to and dance, and consequently a popular destination for guys to go to and, erm … dance.
This is made obvious simply from trying to get in. The girls make small talk with the bouncers, while the guys are given a look usually reserved for that friend that everyone just keeps around to make fun of.
Once inside the former movie theater, patrons are greeted with the slowly descending floor, jury-rigged to be flat enough for an ever-increasing amount of wobbly bodies to move to whatever beat their mind happens to hear.
On this specific night, part of that floor was sectioned off like a crime scene with a crew gathered around to await the soapy madness.
As the night grew longer and more people flooded into the walkways, it was finally deemed time to release the foam.
"White mushy stuff, it'll be like dancing in clouds," my misinformed mind spoke to me as I entered the pit.
"My eyes sting and my shirt is soapy," I came to realize as I came in first contact with the bubble bath concoction.
Despite my flood emergency reaction to head to higher ground, I took the old "when in Rome" philosophy - and proceeded to walk amidst some ancient orgy mixed with Mr. Bubble.
Perhaps I am being too hard on this slippery experience. Dancing with the inclusion of foam can teach a person some important things.
Foam falling from the ceiling inclines one to use his hand to cover his drink, which is never a bad thing for a girl at a bar to keep in mind.
Also it keeps you aware of what's in your pockets. As the foam rose precariously close to knee level I began praying to the digital gods that my iPod and cell phone would leave this bubbly bash in working order.
Plus, it keeps the importance of bathing in mind, which quite a few weekend warrior college students can do to remember.
After I did my time in the foam pit I left like the champion of champions. Covered in cleanness, some bouncers handed me my Bud Light towel (because all important bar functions should have a corporate sponsor), and I wiped off while heading outside to my humble abode while congratulating myself on a cultural experience well received.
Naturally it was freezing cold, and shivering to myself amidst the scene of hot dog, pizza and Chinese food setups, I pushed passed a few fellow soap-soaked students to depart for a land of warmth and sleeping.
It wasn't too bad, and hey, I might even do it again.
Although, in that time I should probably learn how to dance.
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