An inebriated Welcome Back BBQ review: Food trucks, body odor and cold medicine

I sat in my living room, watching the space begin to fill with bodies and empty cans. As acting ‘pregame host’ for the second consecutive year, I knew that it would be my responsibility to clean this all up the next morning, but at least all the drinks people leave behind in my fridge will save me a future trip to BC Liquor.

We made our way to the BBQ (late, of course) and waited in what could only laughably pass as a line. We passed the time by drunkenly screaming with joy at random reunions with passersby who happened to have been in one of our classes that one time. By the time we got inside, the names Killy and Whipped Cream were old news — not that anyone seemed to know who they were in the first place.

The night was young, and the faint scent of body odour and food trucks intertwined and wafted through the air. Half of my friends totally inebriated and the other half were on an entirely different drug: cold medicine. I, in good health and with a steady level of drunkenness, bravely led my group into the crowd.

Immediately my friend’s phone was knocked out of her hand and the poor girl spent half the night scouring the beer slicked floor in search of her device. At one point, I stuck my elbow out to keep the guy in front of me at bay and was horrified to discover that my elbow was now damp. Was it sweat or sheer body heat? I guess we’ll never know.

Soon after, I was perched on top of someone’s shoulders, seeking refuge in the sky, away from all the mangled bodies. Mind spinning from the vodka, I tried my best to stay upright. I was jamming out and enjoying the view until a mosher almost sent me tumbling down. What genius decided to start three different mosh pits in one crowd?

Once we got past the obnoxious crowd, the night turned out to be quite fun. Jauz actually played a lively set and we danced the night away. That is, if you consider 7 p.m. to 9:30 pm night.

Everyone slowly began to stumble out of the gates. Promises of hitting up after parties and clubs were not met. A steady crowd ventured the trek to McDonalds and I plopped myself back on my couch shortly after, wondering how I was so tired at 10 p.m.

However, there was one real question of the night: Where the hell was the actual BBQ?