*Disclaimer* I dont disclaim the majority of what I write because I'm free to write whatever the fuck I want and I dont intend on caring about what people might think. HOWEVER, I am an adult now with adult-like responsibilities and connections and networks so I will preface this story like this: "I dont do this shit anymore. Period. This is simply a depiction of one of my crazy excursions through my high school career and in no way, shape, or form is this current. It is a story. Don't be so god damn serious". That is all.
There's moments in our lives where we have to choose between a good choice and a bad one. The line is vague and definitely subjective but ultimately, you have to decide one way or another. It's these times that tend to define us as people and our memories as memorable. Are you going to be the person who said they were there and saw what happened? Or are you going to be the person who said they fuckin did that shit and it was amazing? We have these flickers of opportunity arise invariably and its those who step up, take a deep breath and jump in head first that deserve the memory of taking a chance once. It doesn't matter if it pays off or if it was right. What matters is you nutted up and did it. Your memory is your reward.
Graduating always seemed like such a finale. Like everything was building up to that last moment, to that hand shake and recieving of your diploma with spot lights and symphony music and a slow motion scene where everyone who you went to school with gives you and only you a standing ovation for being so fucking awesome. It doesn't go quite like that though. Its more of a cattle call, where you line up behind some 50 year old molding curtains waiting to walk past some clearly under budget stage flowers and some metal shit and then hope you dont trip going down the stairs in that fucking awkward dress you have to wear. Thats graduating. It is not 'your moment'. It is not a runway for you to strutt down. It is grimy and boring and simply a cluster fuck of mispronounced names and girls worrying about their make up.
The end of high school just felt right though. It felt like I had won finally. Like I had been battling this monster of expulsion and lost credits and assinine homework and I had finally slayed him. Finally. And I needed a party. We needed a party. And fortunate enough for us, we had this ridiculous nonsense after graduation called 'Grad Bash'. Now, I'm sure everyone had some form of 'Grad Bash'. Maybe it wasn't called that. Maybe it was lame. But the just of the situation went like this: graduate, run home and grab what you need, then run back to the school so you can catch the busses to go to your 'Grad Bash'. Our year, and I'm pretty sure the years following us, got to go to this place called Craigs Cruisers. Its like Dave and Busters or any other cool fucking place that has go-carts and video games and fun writen everywhere.
We gathered ourselves out front before we left the graduation to situate what everyone was doing. The plan was to go home, take as many psychedelic drugs as possible and then pile onto the busses. So thats what we did. All my friends were taking Moly but I, well I had some snazy shit. Some shit you'll never find. It was a fossil drug. Rare, intense and long lasting. Some shit you've heard about in folklore or seen in movies or something someone once told you that someone they knew, somewhere knew someone.... it was one of those. I got home, took off my dress and persisted to dabble in some powdery fun. I only had a half hour to do everything I needed to so I hurried as much as I could. The thing with this drug is that no one knew how to dose it. No one. It was so potent that something the size of needle prick could put you over the edge. But I said fuck it, put my pinky in the bag and just stuck it in my mouth. I wasn't worried. This was going to be an experience worth writing about.
I made it back to my school and met up with everyone. It was an odd event. Civilian cops were standing around, scoping out who they should search and picking their noses. But we didn't have anything on us. We were the smart ones who ingested their illegals before we got there. Take that law. All of us got together and pow wowed about what this night was going to be like.
"You take yours?"
"Yeah, we both did. I want to bring my cigarettes but they said we can't bring anything."
"Thats some bullshit. Someone will though and we'll just have them give us some."
"Right, what bus are you on?"
Apparently, we all weren't on the same bus. Actually, none of us were. I didn't think about this much prior to but when it went down, I was totally unprepared for it. I was already feeling myself sinking through my shoes and this bus ride was going to be awkward. Everyone on my bus was pretty much old friends, who of course wanted to reminisce about 7th grade and pool parties and our parents giving us rides to the movies but I was not having that. I walked slowly onto the bus, soaking in all the faces that I was going to have to put up with for the next 30 minutes and decided to sit as far away from everyone as possible. This could, after all, potentially be a really bad move. I could flip out on someone for yelling too close to me or I could say some weird shit to a supervisor or I could vomit on someone. That was one thing with this drug: you just puked. Whenever. You could be laughing and walking around and just BAM... you're puking. It was never painful or intolerable, actually the puking usually felt good. Like you were getting the unneccesary out. But these were all the factors I had to keep in mind as I came up on an experimental drug on a fucking yellow school bus next to 40 of my peers.
We got off the busses and everything became a riot. Somehow, everyone had shifted from graduated 18 year olds into gossipy little annoying pigs and to be honest, I didn't give a fuck. I had lost my mind miles ago, somewhere between Paw Paw and Grand Rapids and the walls were already breathing in sync with me. It was a done deal. From that moment on, I was in this for the long run. The next 16 hours were devoted to debauchery.
For some reason, the staff had bought gallons upon gallons of Monster Energy Drinks. This was horrible. I understood that everyone else who wasn't tripping would probably need this to stay awake all night. However, my friends also thought it would help out their roll. Their energy levels were radiant, I'm telling you. When I met up with them, they were frothing at the mouth and chewing gum till it turned to foam and I could tell they were going to crash hard.
The inside of this place was a drug enthuisists jungle gym. There was so much shit going on, I just had to look around for a good 20 minutes. There was putt putt golf, decorated in fancy pirate ships and miniature houses and water falls. There was 3 different go-cart tracks. An airal obstical course. Laser tag. Bumper cars. Video games and to top everything off, there was a group of creepy college students giving free 5 minute massages. I will admit that I hestantly let a very obese man rub me and it was probably the best thing thats ever happened to me. No questions asked.
The hole experience was hilarious to me. Theres no other way to describe it. I was walking around in my graduation dress, wide eyed with a smile from ear to ear like I was untouchable. Undoubtly, I probably looked like a fucking retard but I was okay with that. I blended in with the other lunatics. At one point, we all gathered into this little black light lit closet which apparently was the briefing room for laser tag. People always take that game so damn seriously. The other team was all lined up like marines waiting for the gate to open and find the smartest cover possible while we were just trying to figure out how not to put our vests on backwards. The other team got pissed because in all honesty, not one of us had a clue what was going on. Organized shooting with lasers? Psh, thats for the birds. There was way too much stuff to look at and WE HAD FUCKING LASERS! I got into it for a second but ultimately, my team just sat in the back of the arena doing light shows and dancing with our guns.
Driving go carts was by far the most unsafe thing I did. At the same time, very very fulfilling. I teamed up with my bestest girl/friend ever, who I've always had feelings for but never capatilized on them because I am a huge vagina. Anyway, her boyfriend at the time was in our group of rough riding go carting folks and so I made the decision to make the entire race Mario Cart. So I just hit people. Hard. Especially her boyfriend. I did not like him.
After flailing around on the harness from the airal obstical course, we were told to get down so we went to the golf course. I'm pretty sure at the moment, I grew 40 feet. There was a house below me that was no taller than my chest and I thought it was the cutest thing ever made. So my boy and I sat on the porch, struggling to keep our giant bodies from pissing off the occupants and smoked a cigarette.
"Well, this was definitely a good choice," I said, watching the smoke trail off my lips.
"Yeah, I'd say so. Shits crazy man."
"I know right? We're done with high school. Thats so nuts to me. Fuck, was it just me or was Mr. Oprea standing by the video games earlier?"
"Oh no, that was him. Yup."
I began to laugh.
"Wow. That was scary to me for some reason."
By 5 am, everyone was zombies. Everyone. Including the majority of my group. I was sitting in the concession area listening to a raffle of some sort while everyone who I was with just had their heads on the table. It wasn't looking good. But I was still going strong. I'm pretty sure my face was twisting inside out by then and I had given up on all forms of sensical conversation. I was in the belly and I was loving it. McDonalds.
We got back on the buses and proceeded home. I was a cat going in a bath tub; I just did not want to get back on that fucking thing. But I had to, so I did. I just wanted to get home, wash my face and smoke trees till I finally fell like one. The only problem was that it was 5 am... on a Saturday... and no ones going to try to sell us a bag at that ridiculous hour. I got off the bus meloncholy and asked one of my friends what we should do.
"Oh its straight man, Tyler was sitting in front of me on the bus and he said he has a quarter in his truck I can have."
That was a god send. Fucking miracle. I knew I had to be to class in a few hours but I also knew I could not show up in this condition. So we decided to roll up a few blunts and hang out in my drive way. For the next few hours, with morning joggers and little children playing in their yards, I sat at the edge of the street performing sloppy, stuttering poetry with a blunt in my hand. No better way to end a crazy night. A crazy four years. And then, sleep for two days.
I can say I did this. I did the shit out of this. And it was careless and stupid and basically one of my top 5 most valuable experiences in my entire life. Sometimes, the dumbest path is the boring path. I'd rather take the one thats risky. With lasers and miniature houses and boyfriends that I just do not like. I earned that memory. I lived that moment. I did. And it
was
beautiful.
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