I’m 19-and-a-half years old (and yes, I still keep track of the halves, mmkay? :)), meaning I’m eligible to work as a bartender both in my home state and the state I go to school in. I’ve researched both and I’ve generally figured out how to get my bartending licenses in both states, but what I don’t know is how I’m supposed to learn how to… well, bartend. Someone somewhere has to teach me how to actually mix together the right liquids and put them in the right glass, no? Continue reading
At 1:45am on a Friday night, the nightlife is buzzing at my school. Literally buzzing. The amount of drunk people stumbling out of the on-campus bars is quite a bit and makes for some great entertainment for a sober undergrad like me.
My school, like many others, offers a free shuttle service for its students from one end of campus to the other. 1:45am found me at the western edge of campus in my friends’ dorm building, about as far as one can get from my eastern-located dorm. Not wanting to face the cold–also, we were lazy–my friend and I called a shuttle to pick us up and drive us back to our building. Luckily, the shuttle that picked us up was empty, and so my friend and I sat near the front. It was all great and dandy until we got to the bar area. The streets were dotted with starry-eyed over-21s hopping from one establishment to the next. Outside one bar, a girl was puking into a plastic bag while someone helped her into a car.
Then someone flagged down our shuttle.
In walked three girls, two appearing a bit tipsy, and the other one… let’s call her the drunken foal. You’ll understand why in a moment. The drunken foal was, dare I say it, just about fully naked. The only piece of clothing on her body was a very, very short sequined tube dress. It’s not something I would ever wear in the middle of July, and bear in mind, the weather outside boasts a coat of fresh snow and a wind chill of -2°F. But there she was, nonetheless. The drunken foal and her friends stumbled about the shuttle, looking for a spot to sit. Ultimately they piled upon each other in one drunken heap. They reeked of alcohol, and as they claimed they’d just left a restaurant, my friend and I began to panic, thinking they would, at any moment, projectile vomit on us.
As it turns out, they only wanted to ride the shuttle for a block and a half before departing. As they walked over the freshly-fallen snow, the drunken foal’s legs twisted and stumbled upon the snow, and the only thing that saved her from falling flat on her face was her slightly less drunk friend who held her up. The entire shuttle whooped and laughed at this shaking mess of a person walking back. It reminded me of those National Geographic documentaries where you watch a baby animal, freshly-born, trying to take its first steps.
And that is why I dub this naked girl, “The Drunken Foal.”
Before college, I seriously thought all these strange stories had to be nothing more than wild inventions made by university kids to amaze the younger crowd. Nights like tonight make me realize, not one night is identical to the other, and ultimately you really can’t make these things up.