I never liked house parties in college. The music was so loud you couldn’t hear anyone, too many people were usually stuffed into a room or small apartment, and it was always pitch black because hookups were the ultimate goal. Not to mention, there was always a fight that ruined the night.

But every now and then, it’s nice to escape the pressure of popular Queen City nightlife. You know, the high heels, tons of makeup, crowded bars and, of course, an entry fee. So I decided to give the classic house party the old college try.

House parties are usually characterized by three phases: the awkward entry, drunken conversation and the clumsy exit. Allow me to elaborate.

After a much needed weekend at home with the parents, I returned to Charlotte ready to party. Even though it was a Tuesday, I was trying to go up — reference “Tuesday” by ILoveMakonnen featuring Drake if that makes no sense to you. A few people had mentioned to me a place called Hattie’s Tap & Tavern, so I looked it up on Facebook and stalked its website. It appeared to be a laid-back spot, so I figured it would be a good compromise for going out during the week. (Not that I have any problems with going out during the week, mind you.)

I invited one of my closest friends to come hang out, but she had no one to watch her 4-year-old. She asked if she could bring him, and I thought, “Well, the website says dog-friendly, isn’t that basically the same thing?”

I kid, I kid. I called Hattie’s to ask if they were kid-friendly, and they were indeed. As I’d never been out with a kid in tow before, I anticipated an interesting evening ahead.

This past hump day, my editor and I decided to check out The Punch Room for after-work cocktails. Located in the Ritz-Carlton, her suggestion felt a bit ambitious for a mid-week spot, but there was no way I was bailing on the boss.

When we stepped out of the elevator onto the 15th floor, the immediate atmosphere was really quiet, intimidating even. A hostess quickly took charge and led us inside. Upon entering through the doors, you’ll feel as if you’ve walked into the study of an old English mansion, where you’ll light up a cigar and have the finest whiskey on the rocks. Leather couches, high-backed chairs, metal-beaded curtains and dim lighting create the allure of this “seductive new beverage den” (as quoted in the menu).

What was supposed to be a couple drinks turned into a four-hour gab session, over half of which was spent at the bar sharing laughs with Bob Peters, the head mixologist. Here are six things I learned.

This past Saturday, the weather was absolutely beautiful, a carefree peek into what spring will bring. To celebrate the great weather — OK, OK, we were going to be drinking anyway — my friends and I made plans for some day drinking, followed by a 9:30 show at the Comedy Zone.

We decided to head to Olde Mecklenburg Brewery, tucked in the warehouse district on the south side of Charlotte. Full confession: I was an OMB newbie before this visit. Parking was a tad inconvenient, but when I entered what almost felt like a compound with high walls enclosing it, I discovered hundreds of people, babies and dogs sitting at rows of picnic tables with umbrellas enjoying beer in the afternoon sun.

Thanks to the long line at the bar, I found myself double-fisting — the Southside and Captain Jack Pilsner. They were both light, full in flavor and enjoyable.

We ended up ordering a meal fit for a true German: a fresh-baked soft pretzel with Captain Jack beer cheese, burgers, house-made potato chips, house-made potato salad and of course a classic bratwurst. After the sun went down, we enjoyed a couple more beers around the fire pits. Little compares to a good beer in the warm sun with friends around a fire pit discussing the potential real estate — that is, potential significant others — or lack thereof. The best part? This was just an intro to a night of friends and laughter.

To help segue from day to night, we stopped at a friend’s house, where we played a quick game of Edward One-Scissorhand, which involves duct taping a 40-ounce to your hand (a modification, as usually you’d tape a 40-ounce to each hand, implying you won’t be going to the bathroom until you finish). Then we were off.

On a recent Saturday, I woke up around noon, ready to be productive. I had gone out the night before and stayed with a friend, but for once didn’t wake up hungover. As I gathered my things, I realized my purse felt super light. The night before, a friend called to tell me her apartment had flooded, and another sent a text saying his car wouldn’t start. Remembering that, I chuckled and thought, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I had lost my keys?” Sure enough, when I emptied out my crossbody, there were no keys.

I began to review my night: two Ubers, Prohibition, a taxi and the last stop, Cameo. If I left my keys in a cab, sayanora. I considered giving up and grabbing a spare key from my leasing office, but decided I should retrace my steps first. I took an Uber to Discovery Place for Science on the Rocks (#SOTR) “Smoke and Mirrors. Sure enough, after pulling up my app and finding Jennifer’s (my first driver) number, I was beyond relieved when she said she had them.

See? I knew I hadn’t gotten that drunk. In fact, I stayed so lucid, I can tell you about my first #SOTR experience with great detail.