I know you’re tired of hearing ‘yolo’ – (you only live once) but it applies so well to this post, I swear!
If you ever wanted to know what it would be like to blog for SandF, here’s a little sneak peak into the emotional crisis:
Everytime I write something, part of me thinks: “Wow, I feel so liberated sharing this with the entire internet” –then, the other part of me thinks: “Wow, I just screwed myself out of a job and a husband.”
Ehh, it’s a schizo-tradeoff Farrah and I have come to love.
Now keep that in mind, as I share one of the most embarassing experiences of my life.
Back when I first started college, I was a fresh-faced FOOL. And I don’t mean in a naive or sheltered way (because I actively UN-sheltered myself in HIGH SCHOOL).
I mean in the Dictionary defintion sort of way:
Fool: NOUN. a silly or stupid person, lacking judgment or sense
Am I being a bit harsh? Probably not, but you be the judge.
One random weeknight, a bunch of us ‘froshies’ decided to celebrate nothing in particular the only way you do when you live away from home and are under 21: getting WASTED.
I remember most of the night, IRONICALLY- since I’ve had blacked-out nights which served to be FAAR less of a shitshow.
I remember skipping from dorm to dorm, downing different types of shots: single shots, double shots, shots in a mug, shots outta the bottle — from different types of alcohol: Bacardi, tequila, vodka.
See, when you’re under 21, alcohol is not about luxury (“can i get some topshelf LIQUOR please”) its about being BAD-ASS. And no matter if you’ve been drinking since 3 or 13, if you’re not legal to drink, you’ll just take what you can get your hands on (POPOV- im looking at you)
and sometimes, too much of it.
So other than drinking, toasting to a good time, and prancing in sprinklers, I don’t think I did much else that night.
Well, other then get arrested.
SOOO…I remember my friends trying to hold me back from leaving the dorm building, but I drunkenly decided I needed some air, so I pushed through the door, and tripped over myself. As my luck would have it, two CAMPUS POLICE OFFICERS were chillin’ right outside. They called me over.
I pretended I couldn’t hear, even though they were only three feet away. They called me over, more threateningly, and it worked.
Now, this should be a testament to the fact that I was not THAT DRUNK, because I remember the following, in such detail it’s impossible that I was at a 1.3 BAC level.
The two officers sat me on a bench outside, and I could see from the corner of my eye – my friends watching, horrified, from inside.
They asked me how much I had to drink, where I had gotten the alcohol, and who I was drinking with. To which I replied,
“I’m not drunk, I swear. Its against my religion to drink.”
“A lot of things are against a lot of people’s religions. Now answer the questions.”
“No, but like, really, it’s against my religion. I dont drink, my parents would kill me if I drank, they would–”
I went on and on about the various punishments I could possibly suffer IF I DID DRINK. Soon, the campusCOPS brought my friends out too- to help handle me. And they also called ACTUAL police officers.
Before I knew it, I had 3 police officers, and two campuscops asking me for all this info to write me up or some BS– and inside my head, all I was thinking “what LIE could I possibly give that would make them think I am not drunk?”
“Listen, this is a misunderstanding, I swear I’m not drunk. I swear. I have FOOD POISONING. I need to go throw up, please, can I go throw up?”
“Please stay seated. Don’t move”
“Ok, fine, but I swear its just food poisoning, from SHRIMP THAI PIZZA, they were serving it today–have you guys ever had it? I know this girl on the third floor who got food poisoning from SHRIMP THAI PIZZA, do you want me to wake her up? She’ll tell you. I shouldn’t have had it, it was obviou-”
“Could you please shut up.”
“Yes sir sorry…………………………………….but can I please go throw up? The Pizza real–”
“No, can you please give me your name?”
“Do you want me to spell how it sounds or how its pronounced?” (This is me thinking of giving a fake name to throw them off).
“Please. Spell. Your. LEGAL. name– Do you have your ID on you young lady?”
My friends, just as drunk as me, were scared. They go to fetch my ID, but instead find my PASSPORT. They hand the cop my passport, he takes down all my info. Then they make me do all the stupid DRUNK tests. “Count backwards from 75.” “Walk in a straight line, one foot in front of another” and some other BS with my hands, and the alphabet.
Then, they handcuffed me.
Back of the police car, I’m still in a cheerful mood– trying to make small talk with the cop. He’s not very nice, and informs me that if I ever had a dream of being in law enforcement, I should quickly find a new dream.
Before releasing me into the DRUNK TANK, the cop breathalyzed me, said I was at “1.3 BLOOD ALCOHOL CONTENT level– and 1.5 was alcohol poisoning.” Ok, cool– now where’s my bed?
I woke up in the morning, on a blue gym mat, next to a girl who only had one stiletto, and a very skanky dress. I realized I didn’t have my cell phone, or my ID, or any sort of money…and I was in a room full of hungover prostitutes, and homeless crack addicts. There was actually a guy in the corner scratching and conversing with himself.
My parents did not raise a drunktank daughter. And immediately, I felt shame. Guilt. Embarrassment. REPEAT.
The person in charge called me a cab, who also lectured me on the drive home. My friends awaited my return, worried I had been to prison or something– once I told them the whole story, I remember one of my guy friends asking,
“So, is this gonna scar you from drinking?”
If it did, the scar didn’t last that long.
So, am I an embarrassment? Or do we all make stupidSTUPID mistakes, like trying to LIE to Law Enforcement while under the Influence?
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