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I have always felt a disconnect from my generation. I am not into the same things as most of my peers. I'm acutely risk-averse, to the point of being dull, and I have no crazy stories. Or at least I didn't, until recently.
This past year of my life has been disconcerting. I remember being so exhausted on a few occasions that I found myself wishing to step outside my head, even if it were just for a bit. That desperate desire, in conjunction with my coming of age, led me to the simplest avenue of achieving it - an inebriated evening of unthinking. The idea was simple - get buzzed enough to reach an upbeat, uninhibited place, a place where anxiety and righteousness didn't weigh on you.
People dole out all this advice when a teetotaler decides to drink. It's probably one of the few times they're all correct. I adorably thought I knew better, and everything that I could've possibly done wrong, I did. I drank too much, too quickly, on an empty stomach. Not only did I not get to liberate my mind, I embarrassed myself within an inch of my soul in a public setting. Barfing my guts out, breaking glassware, feeling like my head weighed a quintal, the works. Fortunately, I made the solitary right decision of choosing a trusted companion, an angel of a human being who looked after me like nobody else could.
I am not proud of the ruckus I created, but I certainly don't regret the day. If nothing else, it will be cherished as a funny memory I can (hopefully soon) laugh about. As far as anecdotes go, I've entertained enough people with this one. Can't wait for take two.