It's Saturday at midnight and I'm ready to call it a night. I've already been out to a few places, seen some friends, and I have a healthy buzz going. I'm carrying a bottle of wine that didn't get used at a BYOB place earlier, walking east on Belmont, when I notice a house party going on. People are sitting on the front stoop smoking and drinking, and through the first floor windows it's obvious that the house is packed. "That looks fun," I think to myself, walking past. It suddenly dawns on me that the house has to be holding at least 70 people and I'm carrying a bottle of wine - what's stopping me from dropping in?

So I do.

"What's your story?" I nonchalantly ask a guy standing next to me in the kitchen, opening the bottle of wine I've brought. "Oh, I work with Tony at IZG," he says. "What about you?" I nod, trying to think quickly. "I went to school with Tony," I say. The guy nods back and we're insta-friends.

Throughout the night this becomes my standard line. "Do you work for IZG?" I'm asked time after time. "Actually, I went to school with Tony," I reply. People accept this as if I'm saying, "Don't worry, I know your best friend. And We. Are. Bros." Evidently Tony is the man to know, and I just happen to have been tight with him in college. Lucky me.

I meet guys. I meet girls. Evidently entire teams from the east coast are here for a week and a half to take training. I advise on shopping and eating, where they should and shouldn't go, and where they should just hang out. I'm Tony's friend from school and I know all about Chicago.

After almost an hour bouncing around the crowded house like a pinball I head back out to the front stoop. "Can I bum a cigarette?" I ask, despite the fact that I don't smoke. I'm not going to inhale, I just want to fit in, and it's harder out here where it's a thinner crowd. I talk with a guy named Paul, who gives me a cigarette, but doesn't have a light. "Hey Sarah," Paul yells, "give this intern a light."

Sarah looks me over and quints, suspiciously. "You're not an intern," she says. "I manage the interns, and you're not one."

I go into defense mode. "I never said I was an intern. Paul said I was an intern," I say. "I'm a web designer." I pause, thinking for a second. Then: "I went to school with Tony."

With that Sarah eases up, gives me a light, and in return I share a high-five secret I know with her. It's all good again.

After 1:00 am comes and goes I realize it's getting about time to head home. Most of the IZG trainees have to head back to their hotels, which they inform me are in Skokie, and I shudder to think of their hour long ride versus my 5 minute walk to my apartment.

Walking home I'm glad that I made myself stop in, my sense of fun outweighing my worries about what could go wrong. While they're usually not life changing, there are those events you look back on with regret. Those "What if?" and "I wonder..." stories that, even if they're small, can still nag your brain occasionally. But as I walk home I'm feeling good, and I feel a little proud of myself that I followed through and pulled it off. No, as far as regrets go I really only have one for that night: That I never actually got to meet Tony.