The time I got in a fight at a concert. I’d pushed my way in front of someone like any normal concertgoer, but this one had a mouth and I’d consumed way too much alcohol to back down. There was a blur of pushing and hair pulling and the next thing I remember I was sitting in an office somehow already mid-conversation with a sympathetic bouncer who was trying to force-feed me water. Someone had puked on my boots (maybe me) and my scalp felt mildly dislocated.

The time I drove home from a party high. It was the first time I ever got high. I was at a party in Como with a bunch of people I didn’t know and the girl I came with was busy making out with a guy sincerely named “Cosmo” in the keg room. So I made a new friend and we were smoking in the basement when we heard a screaming match upstairs. Two guys were yelling at my friend about something and it was scary and I grabbed her and we ran to my car and drove home and ate Cheetos in her bed.

When I used to buy booze/sneak into bars while underage. Meh.

When I bowled a police officer over on my way to puke in a gas station. It was VEISHEA and they were supposed to be giving out public intoxes so I offered to buy him “chips or a delicious tornado” as proof of my sobriety.

The time I bragged to a girl about how much her boyfriend/baby-daddy called me to complain about her. That should seriously not be legal.

The time I broke into my friend’s ex’s house to steal her favorite sweatshirt back. I also stole laundry detergent, for personal reasons.

All the times I stole things/vandalized houses in high school. My high school best friend and I told this guy who lived in our neighborhood that he could be in or clique if he passed “initiation.” So for months we drove him around and would make him streak or steal things from people’s yards. He got caught by a teacher at the high school once so we stopped dropping him off and made him walk down the block.

– Rachel Green

Photo by Ingy the Wingy (Creative Commons)