I pity the fool who has ever died from drinking Budweiser. What a way to go. One of the most totally unpalatable beers there ever was. When I was young and naive and in college, willing to drink anything I could get my hands on, I probably – no, I know I had Budweiser. I’m reminded of a night in Toms River where my friend at the time drove down with myself and a few others to visit and attend a party held at the home of her roommate’s then-boyfriend. My parents would have never approved, so I forgot to mention it to them. We drove down and had a few drinks and even though my friend was not drunk, her roommate’s boyfriend’s mom (home as well), took her keys and said because she drank she had to stay over and she was not permitted to drive home, leaving myself and at least three others stuck there for the night. My friend at the time, so resigned to the fact that she had just shafted her friends. No one else seemed to mind except me, though I likely played it off. We were all underage. I understood, yet was ticked that she was my ride and this was not planned and she decided this for us with her actions. That and she didn’t seem to care. My main concern was conveying this news to my parents. That was a tricky subject. Of course once I told them they were livid. It was difficult to convince them that while I did know we were going to Toms River, I did not know that it was going to turn into a sleepover. They claimed I knew all along and just didn’t tell them. I was upset and embarrassed by this turn of events. They wanted to call a cab, come pick me up, but I would have been mortified if any of that transpired. I don’t know how, but I reluctantly got them to be okay with me sleeping over, but damn did I have hell to pay the next day. Though I got drunk, the company was shit and I remember not having that much fun. And that going to sleep was annoying and complicated. The basement, where we were resigned to sleep, was so hot and smelled like Doritos and beer. While I stuck close to my friends, the couches were filled with strangers and young men who I didn’t even casually talk to at the party. I felt uncomfortable and alone, counting down the painful minutes ’til morning when everyone started stirring. I don’t sleep well after a night of drinking. I never have. I constantly toss and turn. I remember going to Wawa and getting some ridiculous Mocha Iced Coffee for the ride home, my stomach doing somersaults and my head pleading for mercy. Nothing –

Author: Roe

30. she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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