Second semester of my senior year I was socially checked out. I had just finished my year-long term as my sorority’s VP and had started working at my dream job. I was so over everyone and I rarely went to any social events. The campus Undie Run was the last thing of the year and I clearly had no desire to go, but my friends somehow managed to convince me. “When else will you be able to run around in your underwear” and “think of the FOMO you’ll get if you don’t go,” my friends begged, as they eventually got me to cave.
My girlfriends and I all got ready at my apartment that night and decided to start drinking before some of our guy friends came over. Being the responsible semi-adult that I am, I hadn’t been drunk in a long, long time. I was too busy finishing school and working to go out, so my tolerance had gone way down. We got stupid drunk and ended up completely missing the entire undie run. At that point, I was too drunk to even care. The guys came up for a bit but we parted ways when we decided to go to one of the after-parties at another friend’s apartment.
We get to the after party and it is complete shit. There were about 10 people there, including my four friends and I who were on the verge of blacking out, and the girl who so graciously stole my boyfriend the previous year. Needless to say, I wanted to get the hell out of there as fast as possible. I start chugging all of our alcohol in an attempt to leave and then everything after that moment became one giant blur that everyone else had to fill me in on.
Apparently in my rush to leave I tried to get into the first moving car I could see. I was seriously convinced it was our Uber, but it turns out we didn’t even call an Uber. I also thought it was a good idea when we got back to my apartment to go into our jacuzzi. Fully clothed, phone in pocket.
I woke up still drenched from the jacuzzi the next morning nursing one of the biggest hangovers I have ever had the horror of suffering from. That’s when the morning-after regret hit me. What did I do last night? And why is my phone broken?
I had my friend come over and explain everything — the pregame, the after party, the alcohol, and of course, the story of how I broke my phone. I sat there, head hung low in shame, while my friend assured me this was the worst that could happen and everything would be fine from here on out. Boy, was she wrong.
After sleeping off most of my drunkness, I finally tried to get a move on my day. I had an extremely important work event that night so I needed to pull myself together. When I was semi-functional I headed to Radio Shack to get my new phone. Yes, I was still feeling extremely shitty but I figured the best way to get over a hangover was to push through the pain. I thought it would go away once I got going. As they were setting up my new phone, I started feeling really weird, like I was in some weird haze.
That’s when everything turned into a black tunnel. I passed out and then woke up mortified and laying on the floor. One of the employees handed me a wad of paper towels and I kindly refused them. He gave them back to me and let me know I had a giant gash on my chin that was pouring out blood. For the second time that day, I called my friend who had to take me to the Urgent Care so they could stitch up my chin. She came in the room with me but being afraid of needles, as soon as the doctor started numbing my face, my sister fainted too. As I laid on the bed in the Urgent Care with my face split open and my passed out friend still clutching onto my hand, I started to wonder what led me to this point in my life? Where exactly did I go wrong?
The next day was my first huge solo event for work and the day after that was my college graduation. I had to participate in these monumental events in my life wearing a giant fucking band-aid that covered the massacre my chin had become.
Let the giant scar on my face serve as a warning to everyone: when you think things are going bad in life, remember that they can, in fact, get worse. .
Image via Shutterstock
Nice Move142
Respond
acartier93
Boots, beers, and tacos are all Ashley needs in life. She has a weird obsession with naming things after political and literary figures and can be found 90% of the time day dreaming of naps and cheese dip.
@acartier93
@acartier93
acartier93
