The Storm

After around a month without a single drop of alcohol passing my lips the time had finally come to end the dry spell. It was my friends 21^st and I couldn’t wait to finally put on a pair of heels and drink the night away. Three of my friends were heading to mine first for girlie gossip and a few drinks to get the night started. After consuming said drinks and getting ourselves ready we ordered a cab and were on our way.

The route that must be taken in order to reach the club we were heading to leads one down what looks like a country lane. There are no road lamps to help guide the way and the road runs right alongside a river. All I can say is I’m glad I wasn’t the one driving.  

The plan was to get sufficiently drunk enough for me to dance without a care and have as many lols as possible throughout the night. Well of course this was the plan, who actively seeks a night spent slumped on the pavement being sick on oneself? I’ll admit that there once was a time when this outcome would not have fazed me in the slightest. However, things have changed and I’ve come to rather cherish what dignity I’ve managed to scavenge back after a brief period of recklessness; little did I know that this dignity was about to ripped from my clutches once again.

We entered the hall and were immediately greeted by friends. After the initial hellos were out the way we went straight to the bar. I looked over to my friend who had ordered herself a shot and for some unknown reason I decided I wanted to join her. Throughout my years of drinking I have learnt that Sambuca and my body are never going to have a good relationship; the impact of a single shot has a hideous effect on me. Alas I chose this form of alcohol anyway. This fact alone should give you a pretty accurate idea of where the night was headed.

It was brought to my attention by the individual whose birthday we were celebrating that she was unsatisfied by the selection of music being played. A friend and I therefore took it upon ourselves to request a song that would appeal to the majority. Of course this song was by Rihanna. After we’d approached the DJ and received an agitated response it seemed that the music in general seemed to improve slightly. I remember at least two different Rihanna songs being played and that in itself means the party was significantly better from that point onwards. 

The night was spent talking to old friends or simply those I hadn’t seen in a long time. Catching up with the people who dominated my adolescence definitely made me miss the simpler times of secondary school when alcohol had yet to corrupt my life.

How many drinks I had consumed at this point is beyond me. From what I can recall it wasn’t actually as many as one might guess if they had been observing my behaviour. The combination of having lowered my alcohol tolerance to practically zero, not having eating enough throughout the day and just general excitement to be spending my night socialising with real human beings meant that the rate in which I became inebriated sped up alarmingly. 

My memories from here fade in and out but are all equally mortifying. 

I stumbled into the toilet (stumbling being the general motions my body took for the majority of the hours that followed) to find a friend of mine in a cubicle in a state of distress. Situating myself on the floor next to the toilet on which she was perched I attempted to rectify her sadness. In the end, after calling her brother demanding to pick her up but being refused, I ordered her a cab. 

This is where my memory of this particular fiasco ends. I have been informed that during the time spent in the cubicle I was also sick and practically passed out. Luckily I managed to carry myself to the front of the establishment where I waited with my friend for her cab to arrive. I passed out again during this time. 

At some point I called my boyfriend. This is one event I have no recollection of whatsoever. He explained to me that I rang him and began crying hysterically, for what reason nor he or I know. The conversation was cut short when I dropped my phone and failed to retrieve it, possibly due to passing out again. 

By now my friend had gone home and I was left with the bouncers. Whether I told them or whether they simply figured it out from my call list, one of said bouncers rang my boyfriend to tell him of my current state. He asked for them to wait for my other friends to find me before calling a cab.

I was occasionally aware of what was going on around me as I drifted between consciousness and “sleep”; my name being said and failed attempts to wake me up. After my other two friends found me the mission to get me home began. A cab was called but I was now completely paralysed. Therefore it was the task of one of the bouncers to haul me over to the vehicle and throw me inside; this was probably the biggest mistake (other than the volume of alcohol I consumed in the first place) that was made that night. 

During the ride home I was sick on the floor of the car several times. I cannot say if the driver knew what was happening right behind the seat he was sat upon but he didn’t charge any extra for the damage to the carpet on the car floor. I cannot image the disgust of his following passengers when they boarded the vehicle and stepped in a puddle of vomit.

I say I was taken “home” when really I was taken to my boyfriends. Once he had carried me from the car to his door I decided to sleep in his hallway for a while. In total he said he took him multiple hours to get me into bed. He did well to get me out of my clothes and into a clean t-shirt, as well as to take my extensions out; however he failed to remove my makeup which had spread across my face whilst I had been crying. Upon awakening the next day and looking in the mirror, I saw an appalling but also highly amusing image reflected back at me which resembled an extremely sleepy panda.

All in all the night was quite a disaster. Despite wearing an amazing dress and being with awesome people I managed to ruin it for myself. There is one main thing I have learnt from this experience; do not go a prolonged amount of time without drinking alcohol. It totally fucks you up.