Well. on the Tequila?

O. Wow.

One year ago this moment, I was getting wasted out of my mind at my aftergrad party. Earlier that day, I said goodbye to high school, stupidly believing that graduation means you can leave behind the kind of drama that high school is full of. Well, you can't, but whatevs...

And thinking about what happened a year ago tonight, I remember why I started this here blogge in the first place. The wild and crazy events of that night ended up growing into the reason I eventually entered as a naive writer into the bloggosphere.

The whole night had a rather surreal feeling. Probably because I was very intoxicated. I learned many lessons that night, learned a lot about myself, and mostly had a bomb time. But by the end of the night, I was thoroughly terrified and mightily relieved.

Some things I learned:
1) People who take Ecstasy with their alcohol are clinically insane for a few hours.
2) Shit happens on crowded buses, and while everyone around you might be completely gone in a drunken daze, they still can see you and remember what happened the next day.
3) Gay guys are extremely fun and low pressure to dance with.
4) Tequila.
5) there are more, but this list is getting annoying.

It was a weird evening. My cousin was visiting from California, so she came with me to Aftergrad. My date and I went to prom and everything together, but were never really together. He had off-handedly asked me to prom during English class one day because he had no date. I had known it was coming and said yes because I wanted a corsage (which he didn't get me anyhow, so what was the point?). The two of us had been going through that awkward time before two people start dating, but we had never actually bothered to start dating. I was minorly interested in him, but looking back, I have a feeling that that interest was mostly to mask the bigger interest I had in someone else.

Anyhoo, the after party began well, despite my deadbeat date. I had a fake ID, so I got an alcohol bracelet, allowing me to spend heinous amounts of money on tiny, overpriced, under-liquored drinks. I discovered Tequila and mostly stuck to straight shots of it. I learned it makes all inhibitions just vanish. Other drinks just kind of mask them, but Tequila, dear God....it's like you can't figure out why you had qualms about doing certain things in the first place. Like any societal pressures, any dos and don'ts nurtured in you, any anything go *poof* and you just act. Am I going to fall asleep against the chest of this guy while still dancing with him? Yes, yes I am.

Fairly early on, a girl started going a little wonky. It looked like she had just managed to overdrink really fast, but as she got stranger and sicker, it was evident she had taken something besides alcohol and we were pretty sure it was Ecstasy, though she denied it the whole time. We brought her to the washroom where she puked and was sometimes seen flailing in an alarming manner, then puked some more. We took care of her in shifts. But then I got really tequila-ed up and forgot about her.

I danced up a storm. I danced with a gay dude who had "officially" come out just about a month or so before graduation (but everyone had known since....well probably since the beginning of high school). I danced with a guy from the year below us who is like 6'2" and moved like he was a giant cushion (which was why I fell slightly asleep....my head only reached his chest area). I danced with a group of friends. I danced with my date for a bit and then watched him dance with my cousin as I disco-infernoed like it was 1969. I danced while waiting in line for liquor. I danced with the girl I had secretly fallen head over very little feet for.

I was so busy dancing that 3am rolled around and people started to file out of the club area to the buses to bring us back to the city, and I didn't notice. About a third of the partiers got on to one of the two buses, the doors snapped shut and it took off. The rest of us were woken from our dancing stupor by raging bouncers screaming at us to get the fuck out of there and on to the fucking buses.

Too many people piled onto the bus. Three or four people to a seat, more lying across people's laps, and more in the aisle. I was sitting with the girl I had been dancing with. In the seat in front of me sat my cousin and my "date". Making out. I was gawking at them, they were seriously going at it. At one point, my cousin turned to me, suddenly realizing through her drunklyness what she was doing and gallantly asked me if I wanted her to stop.

No, I said. Then I was unable to contain myself any longer and I burst out laughing. It was so funny. The subtle irony. By all means, I said, keep at it.

So they did.

And I was sitting with this girl.
.
.
.

Anyways, by the time the bus reached the Perkins restaurant we were to be dropped off at, rumours were circulating. Clearly, drunkeness does not make people blind. My buzz was wearing off slightly and there was a little seed of fear growing in the pit of my stomach. But still, my blood was about 65% tequila and I could ignore the irksome feeling for a while. We got off the bus, and my cousin, girl, and I went into the washroom of the Perkins where the bright light seered our eyes and also revealed the giant hickey on my cousin's neck. Laughing ensued.

And look, there was Ecstasy girl wobbling her way out of the restaurant with....who is that? Her mom. Ouch. Well, she's alive. Insane looking, but alive.


Next morning I was sober and scared out of my wits. How many people saw? How many people did they tell? What the fuck had I been thinking (well obvi, I wasn't thinking, my brain was elsewhere, shacking up with tequila and making bad-judgement babies)? Why did I drink soooooo much tequila? Where does inhibition go when it is forced on vacation by a bombardment of alcoooool? Sure, just about every bus seat had one or two sets of people makin' out, but they wouldn't be the gossip on everyone's lips the next day. There was also a itty-bitty button of relief holding closed my cardigan of fear. Just a little relief cropping up saying the truth....is....goood.

And with my wierd mutant blood, I was not hungover. Small perk.

I scarcely spoke to that girl after that night. My infatuation had been warped into fear and I'm pretty sure, that's a chemical change that cannot be reversed. Fear lead to guilt at not caring about what she might have been going through. Hence the blogge was started as a place to deposit all the swirling ridiculousness going on in my mind.

'I had so much to say, and no one to listen,' (Jerry McGuire, which I am currently watching). I couldn't talk about it with my friends because how would they react?

So, blogge.



Side Note: I can talk to my friends now. Whatta difference a year makes.

PS. That was an annoyingly self-involved poste. I'm truly sorry.