The Time I Almost Got Murdered Going to a UC Santa Cruz Forest Rave
The forest is never a good idea
It was my freshman year at UC Santa Cruz. Those first weeks of college, far away from home, are the hardest. You cling to the first people you meet, depending on each other to sort through the confusion of university life, filling the chairs next to you in oversized auditoriums and chaotic dining halls.
In those first few weeks the group I had fallen into caught wind of the first forest rave of the quarter. The event was notorious and unique to a campus surrounded by acres of redwoods. They wanted to go, as any college kids wanting to experience all of their “firsts” would. Any true crime enthusiast knows that nothing good ever happens in the forest. But, similar to most freshman trying to find their bearings, the fear of saying no over powered that initial gut instinct. So I agreed.
We arrived at the designated meeting area, where dozens of wide eyed freshman gathered, prepared to follow upperclassmen into the unknown. We started on the trail, lit only by the moon and iPhone flashlights. Weaving through bushes and zigzagging through tall redwoods, my eyes were laser focused on the dirt below me as I tried not to roll my ankle in the dark. Single file we continued deep into the forest, far beyond any sign of campus life.
