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It takes a lot for me to turn down an invitation to a party. Sure, I hate small talk with strangers as much as the next person, and yeah, I usually bring either way too much or way too little alcohol. However, when you’re at a party, whether it’s at a house, apartment, back yard, or wherever, there’s a much more intimate vibe. You’ll usually be in someone’s living space, seeing the things that they see every day when they get up for work and go through their daily routine. Plus, if you don’t like the party or if it gets overcrowded, you can just go to the bar anyway and nobody will judge you.
That brings me to last weekend. One of my best friends was celebrating her birthday and had booked the Bunny Slope about a month in advance. For those who aren’t willing to click the link, Bunny Slope is a private hot tub lounge in the lower level of the ACME Hotel in Chicago. It fits parties of up to 18, comes with a full bar (and a bartender), a shower, complimentary towels, TV, and is decorated like an Aspen ski resort. Not only that, but it’s super cheap to rent out, so when we rounded up 18 people to go, we each tossed out something like $10 for two hours in a hot tub.
I had never been to a hot tub party before. Sure, I’ve been to parties where there was a hot tub, but that was never the central theme of the evening. I didn’t know what to expect, how to act, or how to prepare for it. As always, I had a lot of questions, and now that I’ve come out on the other side relatively unscathed, here are some of the important lessons I’ve learned.
One-piece swimsuits are a lot more popular than I thought.
I showed up to the pregame a little earlier than everyone else, just in time to hear my friend Hillary and her female roommates talking about whether or not they decided to go with a one-piece or bikini. Honestly, over the last year and a half, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman wearing a one-piece swimsuit in public. I had always thought that they were reserved for Instagram models and ~F A B U L O U S~ people who I would never associate myself with.
However, when we rolled up to this thing, I would say that the room was pretty evenly split between one-pieces and bikinis. That being said, I was pretty hammered from the pregame so I can’t be 100% sure on that. Not that my approval means anything, but if that’s a trend for the summer, I’m pretty okay with it.
Expect shit to get weird.
Soaking in a hot tub is an inherently sexual experience. You’re already barely wearing anything, it’s steamy, you feel the beads of sweat forming on your neck as you ease the tension in your muscles. Now, add alcohol and loud music into the mix. Suddenly, you’re feeling loose. Confident. You have to lean in close to make sure that your conversation partner hears what you’re saying, and all the sudden the song changes to something by Drake. Anything can happen.
I don’t really want to explain the dynamic of the whole group we were with because it would probably just get boring, so all you need to know is that there were two single girls and three single guys. I’m not sure how it shook out that way, but that’s where we landed.
I saw some shit that night. Grinding in the shower. Making out in the tub. Two couples leave to use the bathroom at the same time. I actually found out that some of the couples were making bets on which of the single people would be going home together. For those curious, I was not listed in any of those bets. Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys.
Plan on being the most out of shape person there.
This works both for people who are in fantastic shape and people like myself who look like a slowly melting vanilla ice cream cone. If you look great scantily clad, great. Must be nice. You’ll walk into a pleasant surprise. If you don’t look so great, that’s fine. This way, you knew ahead of time that you look like shit and can compensate elsewhere.
I blame myself for this one. I knew about the hot tub party about a month in advance and chose not to do anything about it. But hey, for what I lacked in looks, I made up for in drinking copious quantities of alcohol and pointing out which of my friends had heads that were shaped like dicks.
Drink water every once in a while.
Something that none of us realized right away was that two hours is a long time to soak in a hot tub. Pair that with several shot skis and other copious quantities of alcohol and that hot tub might as well be people soup by the end of the night. Not to say that someone is definitely going to puke in the hot tub, but it’s a very real possibility when you’re aggressively dehydrating yourself.
That’s not to say that someone in our group got sick, but even so, by the time we left we were completely drained. Our original plan was to hit the bars once we changed clothes, but when we all got into separate Ubers without deciding an official meeting place, I knew it was game over. My car made it to Cheesie’s up in Lakeview. Another group went to a 24-hour diner, another just back to my friend Hillary’s place. When the birthday girl texted all of us to say she was going to bed, nobody argued. In fact, I think we were all jealous. The night ended after that, with all the single people going home alone.
Partying in a hot tub for two hours seems like a dope way to spend your Friday night — and it is. I don’t want anyone to think that it isn’t. The key is that you can’t go in blind. If you do, you could fuck it up and end up going home alone, which nobody wants..
Image via YouTube / Dumb And Dumber