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By Jack Saunders
Had it all and attracted all. Thousands of students attended the Student Activity Board's (STAB) annual New Orleans-style party in the TSC and experienced everything from having their fortunes read to pressing their luck at the blackjack tables. Each of the three main floors of the building showcased something different and had lots to offer the party-hungry students. Upstairs in the skyroom, the soulful grooves of Chinua Hawk, teamed with soft, dull lighting, created a mellow, easygoing atmosphere. "I think this is the lovers' lounge," said one student to another upon entering the dimmed lighted environment. He may have been right. Couples scattered throughout the peaceful, groovy room. One table near the back, a girl sat on the lap of her beau just drifting away in his eyes as Hawk's mellow croon serenaded their moment. This room was for the easygoers, the sit-and-listen type, the "I'm down with just chilling and being cool tonight" type. Hawk and fellow New Jersey singing songwriting soloist Granian traded stage-time every hour or so, maintaining the room's pleasurable milieu. "If you feel like it, hang around, have a good time," said Hawk. "We're just chilling tonight." "Just chilling" was not the mood for the entire building however. The second floor's Sunburst Lounge housed a casino, complete with visor-wearing dealers, poker chips and an assortment of risky games. Hopeful gamblers created a monstrous line, just to get into the make-shift casino, and swarmed the many tables to squeeze into the hard-to-find, open, game-playing spots. The room's tensions were as high as the make-believe stakes, as bettors tried increasing the amount of their worth-nothing-but-a-good-time colorful chips. The high tensions could be exchanged for high volume upon entering the spacious ballroom. Big hair, '80s cover band Final Warning, comprised of USU students, shared the spotlight with Recycled Percussion, a southern New Hampshire synchronized drumming foursome who pound away at items found in junkyards. Both received roaring applause from the high-energy crowd as they alternated playing time. Final Warning's loud hard-rock anthems provoked the crowd to form a tightly packed mosh-pit and jump and push each other to the recognizable tunes. The lead singer of Final Warning gave the crowd several prompts to stop pushing and even resorted to a final warning of his own, resulting in the exact opposite of calming the crowd down. "Stop pushing. If you don't stop pushing we got to get off, cause I don't want to die up here," he screamed. "Cause, I got to tell you, we're not going to take it anymore." After saying those words, the crowd cheered in unison as Final Warning immediately began to play "We're not going to take it" by Twisted Sister, a song known for its rebellious provocations. Garbed in tight black Spandex, red bandanas, fake wigs and badly drawn tattoos, Final Warning looked like a cheap, younger, rip-off version of the infamous Guns N Roses metal band. The bassist wore a sleeveless, leopard-patterned belly shirt, complete with thigh-high, ripped-up, cutoff Levi's. The lead guitarist (usually dead on while playing the many classic solos of some of the genre's most famous songs) posed as the top-hat wearing, chain-smoking electrifying wailer Slash. And the lead singer, well, Axel of course, at least a wife-beater-sporting (those white tank-top undershirts) black and red cowboy boot wearing, "white-trash" (dubbed by his fans) version. After many encores and stage returns, Final Warning retired for the night, and let the vocally tired lead singer rest his worn-out vocal cords (the last few songs, including Sweet Child of Mine were sung primarily by the crowd, he just couldn't keep up.) The final show of the night, equally charged the crowd with a frenzied, jump-around energy. Recycled Percussion, composed of four drumming madmen banged on everything from 100-gallon water barrels to old discarded oxygen tanks. At one point, they fired up some eclectic saws and grinded them against large metal barrels, creating unique sounds and 20 feet of flaming sparks. For their finale, they set-up a 15 foot double-sided ladder, and a metal thumping duo climbed each side while pinging each step in rhythm along the way. The hallways outside of the ballroom and surrounding the casino were packed with mingling, diverse students. Some, trying to fight their way through the densely crammed crowd, others just enjoying the limited space they were in, making no effort to budge. This standstill created a small traffic jam, where all kinds of costume sporting, bead-wearing and just plain odd-looking party goers could be spotted. A group of several guys seemed to be in some sort of bead-accumulating competition. One, resembled the jewelry adorned Mr. T, draped with hundreds of gold beads. Others ornamented with various vibrant multi-colored beads resembling the mesmerizing content of kaleidoscopes. Some, seemed to have enough beads around their necks to drown them (should they happen to fall into a large body of water any time soon.) One girl was dressed like an angel, with purple, fuzzy attachable wings and matching halo. She even wore a sign that read: "Kiss me and you'll go to heaven." Some girls had long, exotic, sparkling boas draped all over them; others (mainly guys) had bright yellow wigs and corny-looking cowboy hats. But the weirdest sight of the night goes to obedient pet and master. Some strange-looking guy had a dog collar strapped to his neck attached to a leash held by his scantily dressed, tassel-wearing, makeup-covered owner. His shirt read "Man Slave," and his face was plastered with bright red puckered lip marks, I only assume given to him by his mysterious handler. I followed them into a dark corner where she seemed to punishing him for the bad dog he was (very strange noises, I won't even begin to describe). Decorative, costume-wearing people scattered the halls, and were found everywhere, especially downstairs, where the hallway, dubbed "Bourbon Street" for the evening, contained portrait painters, pop and snack concessions and a long line of fortune seekers (waiting for a fortune teller to map out their lives.) Downstairs also hosted a DJ mixing dance floor, where people packed the small Hub area, and moved quickly to bass-thumping hip-hop beats. Yes, the night's event contained something for everybody, and everybody seemed to be there. I spent most of my time following strange-looking people around and eaves dropping into the friendly conversations shared by many. I heard one guy say, "I'd rather be watching Sports Center right now." When asked why, he simply said "Who would pass up Sports Center?" Well, it seems that night, no one passed up Mardi Gras, everyone and their dog was there.
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