Why didn’t I just stay home…
All that was left to do was disconnect my flat iron and grab my bag. So, that’s what I did. Walking up to Daly City Bart was what I did next. My destination was my close friend A’s house, which was a hype, because she lives all the way in the ghetto of Bay view. I had a bottle of Smirnoff vodka which kept shaking in my big black H&M bag as I walked up to top of the Hill, because my bus was taking way too long. I got on the 14 then I got off at silver and got on the 54 bus. It was already around 8:30 p.m. I lied to my mom that I was sleeping over my friend Z’s house, but I really was going to stay out to get drunk. There wasn’t any occasion for the alcohol; bottle to be opened. It was just one of the “YOLO” days I usually had. When I got to A’s house the first thing I did was go straight to her mini bar that her mom had, and I filled up a water bottle I had with straight strawberry vodka. At A’s house I can always get drunk. A’s mom was not suspicious at all because she is so welcoming and caring, at times. The only reason I went to A’s house is because it was warm and I was waiting for my friend to get off work so we could TURN UP! Little did I know he told his friends to come also, which meant more liquor.
I left A’s house around 9:50, and I got on the bus, a little tipsy. Since it is the 44, late at night, this one light skin black guy got on two stops after I did, pulled out his money and said, “What’s your name?” I replied with, “None of your business,” because I hate when people talk to me when I have earphones in. Then he said “Well I got money, can I touch you?” That was my cue to say “Bitch stop talking to me.” The bus driver heard me get angry and the whole conversation we had, so he politely asked him to get off. The guy was pretty calm, after I said that to him he got quiet and did not say one word after that, what so ever. It got me upset at the moment, but I get over childish horny guys that have nothing better to do then get a job or do something productive with their lives.
By now, it was around 10:30, my friend was waiting for me on Mission and Silver street in San Francisco. We were just sitting at the bus stop for a good twenty minutes until these three girls came to pick us up in this ghetto, little, black Corolla. I had never saw any of the girls a day in my life, but I did not care because I have always been extremely outgoing which means it is not hard for me and random people to “click.” I got in the car all squished up with this lesbian chick that tricked me when I first saw her, because she was a stud and I automatically thought it was a boy, but it was not. When my friend and I got into the car, the first thing that was handed to me was a straight bottle of flavored strawberry vodka, full. The same thing I had in my bottle was what they had. There wasn’t enough seat belts or even room for everyone, so I just was dancing to the music in the car hella drunk not even thinking about what mistakes I was just about to make. I remember having to go to the bathroom so bad, but I was embarrassed, or I just didn’t want to make a big scene over me having to go urinate. The girl who picked us up was driving up to twin peaks, when the stud handed me a Hennessy bottle of alcohol. Once again, it was filled to the top, brand new. I kept drinking it and drinking it as if I was really trying to kill my liver. As said by so many teenagers, I DID NOT GIVE A FUCK.
That fuck that I did not give lead to me waking up at General Hospital with a new fresh set of clothes, a gold necklace that said my name on it was not longer on my neck, my phone missing, and my stomach somewhat numb. The first thing I did when I woke up was start crying. I had no idea what had happened to me. One of my good friends mother, Z, and my friend Z were in the room with me. Z let me know nice and clear, “Bitch, are you dumb? Do you know what just happened to you? You’re so lucky the people you were with people who actually cared about you, or else you would have had just been thrown on the street.”
I got my stomach pumped. My friend’s mother took care of all the payments, which was over $1,000. My parents never found out, but all I could think about was disappointing them by acting like a piece of trash at such a young age. I had two pumps and needles around my bottle as I woke up. Every time I moved from my right side I felt something poking the side of my gums in my mouth, and my feet feeling extremely blown up. I can never forget the feeling. I have extremely bad memory, but it shocks me how I never forgot about the worst mistake I ever made. I never found my phone or the necklace, but looking on the bright side, I never hung out with the same people, and my parents did not find out about the atrocious disaster I got myself into.
The doctor told me I had infected my body at an extremely young age, which meant I had to take antibiotics for a week, which my friends mother paid for. All I could think about was dealing with the consequences of my body reactions to alcohol now. I never drank the same alcohol after that incident. Even though I am 18, and I know I should not be drinking, I only do it on special occasions, plus I know my limit. Moreover, when you do dumb shit, you feel like shit. That whole entire week of the alcohol incident, I felt extremely aggravated and disgusted. As time went by it faded away and has never haunted me ever again. I truly do learn from all my mistakes. Now I know why I should have stayed home…
