I am the oldest of eight kids (trust me, I know) so when my family of ten dropped me off at my dorm my freshmen year I could not have been more excited. I was finally on my own, my mother could no longer tell me what to do, and I could finally party.
In high school I wasn’t an ‘it girl’ that went to all the big parties, I was a swimmer and our weekends consisted of sitting around watching a movie and stuffing our faces with junk food. But New Years Eve of my junior year, a few friends and I got an older kid from to buy us alcohol and we sat in my kitchen and drank straight vodka and gin. That was my first experience with drinking and, least to say, it was lame. So when I got to college I had this whole idea that I would drink a little and have fun but never, NEVER, loose control of how much I was drinking.
My mother, naturally, told me I would puke and I would blackout, eventually. Being the stubborn kid I was, I was going to prove her wrong.
My plan was going so well…until Halloween weekend. Halloween weekend is the party weekend, for those who have not spent a fall semester on a campus, and three other girls and I had been planning our costumes since September.
We all crowded into my eight by ten dorm room and got into the teenage mutant ninja turtle shirts we had cut in various ways, spandex, and soccer socks that matched our headbands. We blasted some music as we began taking shots, thinking we were such bad-asses as we threw back one after another. After nine shots and a vodka cranberry we met up with other girls on our floor and hit up a frat party.
The next morning I woke up butt naked in my bed, thankfully with no one else, and my phone was ringing somewhere in the room. I stumbled around for my phone and finally answered, wondering what the hell happened the night before.
“Kayla, Dad is at the door to your dorm, get down there!” My mom said. I had forgotten that my dad was picking me up so I could go pumpkin picking with my family. I called my dad as I threw on some clothes and he told me that another dad was trying to get ahold of his son.
I went down to get the kid and together we did our walk of shame down to our waiting parents. My dad did not say a word as we walked to the car, but I knew he was silently laughing at me in my disheveled state.
As I got into the car my friend Angie* passed me with her shoes in her hand. I ran over to her as my dad started up the car.
“Do you remember anything from last night?” I asked quickly. She shook her head with a huge smile.
“That means we had a kick ass night!” She said before running back into our dorm. I shook my head as I climbed into the car, thinking my friend was a borderline alcoholic. But of course, it doesn’t count as alcoholism as long as you are in college.
Least to say I learned my lesson as my mom laughed at me, shoving a doughnut covered in frosting into my face. My younger siblings asked if I was sick when I demanded my dad pull over and I began puking on the side of the street. Of course the older ones were laughing at me along with my parents.
“I am never drinking again,” I moaned as I got back in the car.
“You will,” both of my parents promised. They were right of course, but to hell if I was going to tell them that then!
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Collection of Articles
Non-FictionHere is a collection of the articles I have written for various reasons. Some are actually for published submissions and then some are simply just articles I had to write for my journalism class.
