Ali Iacono – Lifestylist –
As I approach the end of my college career (hallelujah) I can’t help but reflect on all of my priceless experiences here, but there is one memory that has made its presence far more prominent in my mind. Ah yes, the time that “thirsty Thursday” got the best of me. That’s right; you know exactly what I’m talking about.
I think it’s safe to say the majority of us college students have decided to embark on new idiotic adventures during our time here at school. I am no exception to this. I remember the day vividly…well kind of.
I was a sophomore, a very curious sophomore. I decided to be a BA and hit the club (I believe it was What Bar at the time…God I’m old) and get my party on. My just-as-curious and stupid friend and I decided to do a little pre-gaming in her dorm room before the real festivities initiated (No, I do not encourage such activities. It’s stupid. Don’t do it.)
Well, the rumors are true; mixing alcohol with an energy drink is a no no. My last memory from within the dorm room was talking on the phone with my friend. I do not recall leaving the dorm, I do not recall the taxi ride and I do not recall getting denied entry into the poppin’ club.
When I think of that night today, it comes back to me in brief flashbacks. It was a cold February night, the snow that coated the ground had become frozen solid, transforming into mountains of pure ice. One of my most horrid flashbacks is when my skull met those mountains. You see, after I got denied from the club due to the fact that I had left my Hootloot back at the dorm room, my friend and I decided that walking back to campus was the most logical way to get back (Pure geniuses. Clearly.) Along the way I violently stumbled into the miniature icebergs, resulting in a huge gash on my head.
Again, my memories are scarce from that inebriated evening. The next semi-vivid moment I can recall from that night is when I sat up in my friend’s bed back in her dorm to be greeted by two police officers…I can’t tell you how awesome that was. Next thing I knew I was laying down on a stretcher screaming and tugging at the neck brace that embraced my throat.
Finally, the most depressing and disappointing moment that I can recall from that night’s adventures was laying on a stretcher in the hospital hallway and blurrily seeing my parents run around the corner. Pretty sure my only thought in that moment was “Oh crap.” I had disappointed them. I had disappointed myself.
Once I had returned home I laid in my bed all day reflecting on my stupidity as best as the world’s worst hangover would allow me to. I swore to myself I would keep the drunken occurrence a secret from as many people as I possibly could. I was ashamed and embarrassed. I wanted no one to know of what I had done. I didn’t want to remember the night that I could barely remember. I wanted the cuts on my face, arms and legs to fade and the nightmare of that hospital visit to stop haunting me.
Sitting here today years after the fact I can’t say that I’m not ashamed of what happened, but I’m not hiding it anymore (clearly). In fact, I wanted to share my horrifying experience from that night to hopefully prevent other curious college students from following in my dumb footsteps.
I’m not going to sit here and preach to you like your parents probably do about underage drinking or drinking in general, but I will say if you’re going to do it be sure beforehand that you are with good people and try to be responsible in how much you drink.
The words of the doctor still echo in my mind to this day and serve as a constant reminder of how poor decisions can lead to severe consequences, “You’re lucky to be alive.”
