“Hello, This is 911. What is the problem?”
“I have a girl unconscious and unresponsive in Westchester. PLEASE HURRY!”
A door busted down, glass shattered on the floor, and vomit in the toilet. All I could remember at that moment were the sirens of the police cars and watching the dogs sniff the house. My friends were in hysterics and my face was bright red from anger and frustration as I was interrogated by the police. I had just unwillingly entered the unknown. And the unknown was hell.
* * * * * *
Well, I should probably start from the beginning. It was a casual January day; I ran errands with my mother and had a visit from my grandparents. That night, my parents were going out to a party and my grandparents took my brother and me out for dinner. This wasn’t exactly the coolest thing to be doing on a Saturday. So after feeling socially deprived, I began complaining to my friend about how we never “party.” Only seconds later did I receive a text message from another friend saying there was a party in Great Neck, and I was invited. I personally didn’t know the kid or anyone from this part of Great Neck, but my friends were going so I said I’d come too. This wasn’t a peer pressure situation, I just honestly wanted to meet new people and have a fun time.
At around six o’clock, my grandparents took me and my brother to Fanatico and questioned me about my plans that evening. Little did I know, this interrogation wasn’t going to be the only one I would encounter that night.
“Where are you going?”
“My friend’s house.”
“How do you know this friend?”
“Friend of a friend.”
“What’s his name?”
“Tyler.” (I made up a name)
“Are you sure?”
(Hesitation) “Yes.”
“Will there be any drinking?”
“Of course not. We are responsible.”
The conversation went a little like that because basically, I didn’t know the kid; I didn’t know where he lived; I didn’t know who was going to be there, and I didn’t know what they had in store for us. You know, I was being pretty shady about it. My grandmother warned me that she had a bad feeling about this night in particular. I don’t believe in superstitions so naturally I calmed her down and assured her that nothing bad would happen.

After a normal dinner, we went back home, not knowing that was going to be the only normal part of my night. My friends Lauren and Jane came over to my house and helped me pick out my outfit. Steve Madden black boots, James Perse black leggings, and a light blue American Apparel shirt. As my friends are aware, I have massive anxiety issues. I took a pill to make those feelings go away as I approached this unknown situation…not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, I must say.

In the car ride, I remained quite calm. Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” was blasting and my eardrums felt like they were bleeding, but I was still relaxed. As we approached the house, I received a text from my friend Haley that was already there: “There is so much alc! C ya soon!” Needless to say, I embraced this rebellion. In the matter of two minutes, I knocked on the door and walked in with my friends. The house was grand; tapestries on the walls, rooms as big as classrooms, and regal portraits of the family. The kid whose house it was welcomed me, and then I saw about 10 other guys in the living room. If you were there, you’d have thought this was just a booty-call or a prostitution center. There were about 10 guys and 10 girls. Come on, what would someone automatically assume? Trouble.
On the pool table was the “stuff.” I’m talking about the pot, the vodka, and the gin. I do not smoke, I find the concept disgusting, but the guys had “pre-gamed” so to speak. All of a sudden I was overwhelmed with guys trying to give me FULL glasses of alcohol. I refused these offers. I mean, I still had my sanity. I wasn’t an idiot. Their motives were to get me drunk and take advantage. Believe me, that poor stupid girl that was getting messed up was not going to be Abby Lawrence. However, I’m not a saint and I was “out of it” or so I thought. And about an hour into the night, I had already cheated on my boyfriend. I was more disappointed that the shame and guilt hadn’t hit me sooner as opposed to what I had just done. Does that make me a bad person?
* * * * * *
Meanwhile, my friends had already gone over their alcohol limit. Cara’s mother had told her not to drink because she had just taken heavy medication. She asked me to go to the bathroom with her. Then she threw up. She threw up in the toilet, on the floor, in the sink, and on the towels. Stupidly, she had to learn the hard way that alcohol and medicine don’t mix. I felt like a mother at this party, not exactly how I had envisioned the night. I could tell just by one look that everyone was zonked, my friend Kate in particular. She was falling everywhere and spitting up on herself. Jane and I took her upstairs because she needed to be showered. She was doused head to toe and then all of a sudden, a thud. We had looked away for a minute and she fell out of the shower, suddenly covered in a vomit trail from her mouth to her waist. Her natural tan glow had now faded to a snow white complexion. I’m pale, but this was paper-white pale, visible veins and all. The scariest moment was when her eyes rolled to the back of her head. I slapped the sink to see if the sound would make her conscious and then Jane slapped her. No response. It was like she was dead. My anxiety was skyrocketing! The medicine wasn’t working. My friend John lifted Kate up from the bathroom floor and took her into the kitchen to prop her up. We did this so that she wouldn’t asphyxiate on her own vomit. She was drooling, throwing up, not responding to anything her body was doing. My heart was racing. Thump, (thump), thump. The beat was irregular and panting induced. In the blink of an eye, everything was different. All of the boys had disappeared and Kate was still unconscious. Almost in tears, I called my mother hoping she would know what to do. She couldn’t give me a straight answer immediately so I hung up abruptly. No good-bye, no explanation, no nothing, leaving her in worry. Then I called 911. Within moments, I was connected and the ambulance would be on their way. Relief set in until…
With a bang followed by a smash, Tyler’s brother and his friend barged into the house leaving the busted door to lie on the staircase, making it an obstacle course for those upstairs to come down. They perspicaciously inspected the house. In a matter of minutes, the entire house was spotless, no drugs, no alcohol, it was as innocent as an angel. Oh and then of course there was the unconscious girl in the room, so that kind of threw off that vibe. But back to the door, the friend’s hand began bleeding. I distinctly recall the blood ooze from the four wounds on his hand, the hand that had just broken a door to a house that wasn’t his. The red liquid formed splattered droplet stains on the floor, pointing in the direction he moved. And then the police ran in. As if there weren’t anything else that could make this scene look worse…
Kate was carried out onto a stretcher and taken to the hospital in the ambulance. My friends were crying. I didn’t understand why. But then I realized I wasn’t upset like them, I was angry. No, no, I was FURIOUS. I, a generally intelligent young girl, had put myself in the worst possible situation. I didn’t flee. I didn’t stop Kate, I may have called the police, but I could have completely circumvented this whole scene by just saying stop. I cheated on my boyfriend and for no apparent reason. I let my other friends lose their inhibitions, and I was just being stupid. This whole night was pure stupidity. I locked Cara and myself in the bathroom. The police forced the two of us to come out. We were asked multiple questions about what had happened and then we had to give our names as a precaution. If there was any lawsuit filed, we were to be called upon as witnesses. Now I began to cry. Crying because my whole life could have been placed in a data system, a stain on my permanent record, a night that would go down in infamy, a night I could never forget, just regret.
Within a half hour, my parents had left their party and picked me up. Filled with mixed emotions, I sat in silence until I got home. Instead of reprimanding me, my parents felt sorry for me. It sucked. What I was going through sucked. My dad grabbed my face and checked my eyes to see if they were bloodshot or red. “At least you aren’t the one in the hospital. Remember that. No one can help you if you are that person,” exclaimed my dad. We left the night at that. I went in my room and pondered. I had no idea what to feel at this point and questions plagued me. Did I want to hang out with these people again? Did I even want to be friends with these people? Will I ever drink again? I couldn’t come up with any answers. I just knew I needed for this nightmare to be over. Immediately I fell asleep. And I slept for a solid twelve hours.
* * * * * *
As the sane Lindsay Lohan preached in Mean Girls, “When you get bit by a snake, you’re supposed to suck the poison out. So that’s what I was doing, sucking all of the poison out of my life.” After dealing with everything and talking with my mother in the morning, it was all resolved. But was it? No, probably not. I could never take back what happened that night and ever since, I have NEVER entered a situation like that again. A lesson learned the hard way and out of pure stupidity. Sheer stupidity. It took me fourteen years to truly learn that the unknown, unfamiliar is unsafe.