The weekend festivities start at roughly 9:30 p.m. \nWhile some haul couches to front porches, plop kegs down in kitchens and hang dark bed sheets in windows, others spend hours getting ready and coordinating on cell phones.\nFor some students, the quest is to find that $3 red plastic cup filled with diluted "all-you-can-drink" jungle juice or less-than-quality beer.\nFor others, it's a trip to the bars to mingle and meet friends.\nThe scene seems familiar -- another year of "Thirsty Thursdays" that bleed into all hours of the weekend.\nBut something's different.\nAfter a year at the top of Princeton Review's party school ranking, this is IU's first weekend at No. 3. \nHas anything changed?\n'Buy beer. Not just books.'\nSome feel the University is a haven for partying and social networking, but junior Troy Thompson is among those who think IU isn't deserving of a top spot. \n"We're pretty good as far as party schools go," said Thompson, partying at a friend's house. "I mean, maybe we're deserving of No. 1 in the Big Ten, but I've been to schools like the University of Florida, and it's just nuts there. Every night of the week there's partying going on. It's not really like that here."\nAfter realizing each gathering is a flesh-fest spiked with drunken debauchery among five-minute friends, cliques head out to bar crawl in hopes of finding a more pleasurable atmosphere.\nPlaces like Nick's English Hut, 423 E. Kirkwood Ave., bring in the young and alum-alike, including 1980 alumna Carol Phillips, who said the overall party scene is tame compared to that of her undergrad years.\nThe mother of three current Hoosiers, Phillips said there were virtually no restrictions when she and her friends used to get into bars with "bad fakes." \n"As a parent, it's a good thing," Phillips said. "As a college student, I feel bad for them."\nAfter a few rounds of "Sink the Biz," groups head across the street to Kilroy's Bar & Grill, 502 E. Kirkwood Ave., up to Walnut Street to hit up the Bluebird, 216 N. Walnut St., or down another block to Kilroy's Sports, 319 N. Walnut St., where the line of congregating lushes often winds around the corner.\nIU alumnus Dan Nahrwold remains loyal to his alma mater, saying IU students party harder than those from any other university.\n"We're No. 3 now because of the limited amount of exposure that doesn't convey the true party atmosphere of IU," Nahrwold said. "It all goes to how they give rankings. How do you discern what makes a good party school and what doesn't? If you come on an off weekend, your perception would be completely based on that."\nNahrwold noted IU's run to the Final Four in the 2002 NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament as due cause for people to vote for the Hoosiers in the highly competitive party race. \nBut the drop to No. 3 won't keep students from having a good time this year, and Nahrwold gave sound advice for those who wish IU to regain its claim to fame: "Buy beer. Not just books." \nDrinking games\nWhen Joe Pimmel found an empty table at Nick's for he and his six friends to play "Sink the Biz," he thought it was too good to be true.\nWith cups full of beer, a pitcher at the table and the bucket in place, the game was set to begin. But after falling victim to three of the first six bismark sinks, Pimmel was singing a different tune than when the game first began.\n"At this rate I'm not going to last too long here," Pimmel said as he picked up the glass from the bucket and took it down.\nPimmel, a senior, said for as long as he's been able to go to bars at IU, he really hasn't noticed a correlation between the school's party scene and the Princeton Review's rankings.\n"The ranking has nothing to do with how fun it is here," Pimmel said. "I mean I've probably had more fun this year than last year, and I've only been here five days."\nLess than an hour into the game, the group already has ordered their sixth pitcher, and they've grown progressively louder with each pour.\n"I rule at drinking games," shouted senior Mark Hoffman as he stood, raising his hands in the air. Moments before, he had poured just enough beer into the cup, leaving senior Arshan Borhan with no choice but to sink the "biz."\n"Give it to me…I don't care," Borhan said. "I'll take it like a man."\nWith the seventh and eighth pitchers on their way, the game turns from loud to rowdy when Borhan declared "full-contact 'Sink the Biz.'" As each guy poured, the others would distract him by bumping his elbow or shaking the table. And more often than not, Pimmel ended up on the short end of the stick, or in his case, the drinking end of the bucket.\n"Man, you guys are just hilarious," Pimmel said sarcastically before he drank. "Maybe if you all weren't playing like you're 5 years old, I wouldn't have to drink every three minutes."\nJason Fowler, a senior in the group, said despite the drops in IU's party ranking, the atmosphere around campus has been better than last year.\n"The parties seem to be a lot crazier this year," he said. "It seems like there's been more people at the parties and the cops seemed to have chilled out a bit. Not as many parties are getting broken up this year."\nTen pitchers turned out to be enough and when the check arrived, Hoffman was the first to reach for it. His eyes widened and he sighed as he saw the total. \n"Whoa … I guess everybody owes 20 bucks," he said. But after taking a closer look at the bill, it seemed that a long drinking game didn't do much for his math skills. Between seven people, the bill was only $50.75.\nBy the time the game was over and the check was paid, the table was covered in beer-soaked napkins, and the seven seniors each reclined back in their chairs as if they had eaten a Thanksgiving Day meal. But they weren't ready to stop partying.\n"Dude, come on. Get up," Hoffman said. "Let's go to Sports."\nFirst time for everything\nIt's 9 p.m. Friday, and all the dorm lights are on. \nAlmost everyone in the hall is on their phone, using Instant Messenger or talking in their rooms. \nA group of students "discreetly" travel down the hall with sloshing backpacks. The guys are playing Madden; the women monopolize the bathrooms. A large group sprawls out of the cramped dorm room discussing itinerary and transport.\nA conversation is overheard from one of the rooms as they talk about "a friend of a friend who knows an upperclassmen who's having a party."\nIt's a typical weekend evening on campus. The "Party Prep and Search" is on.\nWhile they haven't had enough time to gauge the validity of a No. 3 party school ranking, most of the freshmen say they have been to at least one party since Wednesday's move-in. \nFreshmen Aaron Vogt and Michael Lucas -- flushed from pre-partying -- say they're "on the prowl" for a party. \nTheir strategy? Go to an upperclassmen's house or follow the music until they find one.\nSeveral say not knowing people at house parties doesn't phase them, and they have found hosts to be welcoming. Freshman Robert Peck says that's the laid-back "vibe" he gets from people at IU.\nEven in the dark, freshmen party-scavengers can be spotted from at least 50 yards away -- particularly on 17th Street heading to the Varsity Villas. Identifying traits: travel in herds, have quick-paced strides, are on phone getting directions to a house party and occasionally release overly-loud giggles or "Dude!"\nEmpty campus buses hiss by as crammed-to-capacity cars circle the block trying to spot a street or house number, stopping only to catcall at girls in off-the-shoulder shirts teetering precariously on platforms.\nA troop of three flip-flop clad women say they learned their lesson about heels the night before when they trekked from Foster Quad for a house party. They, like many others, request their names be withheld in fear a quote would "get them in trouble" with parents and/or authorities.\nUpperclassmen aren't exempt from legal concerns either, as they regulate underage drinkers standing self-consciously on their front porches with cups. Their "cop radar" is so finely-tuned that a resident of Varsity Villas "subtly" ushers everyone into his house and has the door locked behind him before a cop emerges out of the shadows 15 feet away. \n"I was just going to tell them to keep it down," said the off-duty Bloomington Police Department officer working security for the Villas. "That's a natural reaction by most drinkers. Makes my job easier."\nShortly after the "bust," it's time to head to the bars to enjoy the fruits of an over-21 status. At no point -- visibly or audibly -- does there seem to be a shortage of parties or partiers.
The first night of his last year\nFor Greg Holland all that mattered was getting back to IU as soon as possible before classes started. After a long summer internship, he just wanted a few days where the only decision he had to make was choosing between a bar and a party.\nDuring his first night back he chose a house party on Lincoln Avenue, and he wasn't disappointed when he opened the door.\nInside the entry hall, four people were playing "Booze Foos" -- they score, you drink. In the next room two teams of four, standing on opposite sides of a long, white table, were in the middle of a game of "Flippy Cup." And dozens of others were scattered around the house: Some hung out by the homemade bar, shouting above the blaring stereo. There were three kegs on the floor and three bottles of Jagermeister chilling in the freezer for the half dozen of shot glasses resting on the countertop. \nBy the time Holland left the party, he had a taste of everything. As he walked home, moving back a few days early never seemed like a better idea. And, at least for this night, the Princeton Review didn't sway his opinion of IU's party scene.\n"This has got be the greatest place on earth," he said. "We don't have any responsibility whatsoever here … except classes." \n-- Contact staff writers Jackie Corgan at jcorgan@indiana.edu, Colin Kearns at cmkearns@indiana.edu and Elise LeBlanc at meleblan@indiana.edu.
