04.01.17

1 || FRESHMAN HALLOWEEN

Hey there,

How you holding up? Being nine is pretty sick, right? Well enjoy yourself because in a few years shit is really going to hit the fan. Like hard. Those tiny fresh black hairs growing in all the wrong places? Yeah, you’re going to hate those. But that’s not why I’m writing you. It’s come to my attention that in about a decade from now, you’re going to go to college. And let me tell you, high school is hard, college is worse. But you’ll love it. Eventually. Sort of. I promise. Back to my point.

You’re going to go to college and I figure I might as well catch you while it’s early because you’re going to get there and you’re going to want to fit in and there’s no better way to prove you’ve got the true spirit of college in you than Halloween.  You could dress as a slutty nurse or a slutty maid or a slutty pirate or a slutty accountant or a slutty Truman Capote, the list of excessive cleavage bearing costumes is truly endless. But you'll dress as none of those things. You're going to dress as a douchebag. A douchebag you ask? Coco, what the fuck? 

I know. What the fuck. 

But you're going to do it. You're going to buy a crappy jersey and write "douchebag" on it. You're going to dawn sexy knee socks that you've somehow managed to make completely unsexy and those Nike running shorts from the school store that you cut the built in underwear out of. You're going to find only one picture of yourself the following morning and it's going to be you cradling a Costco sized bottle of SKYY vodka like a child. And you know where you're going to be that following morning? You're going to be sleeping with your head in the bowl of your toilet. A toilet you happen to share with three other people who have very kindly let you take occupancy for the night. How did you get there? Well I'll tell you.

It all starts because your film school (That's right, you're going to film school! Prepare to be frequently asked why you're getting a degree in waitressing.) throws an annual Halloween party and instead of going to a frat party like everybody else, you're going to go to this thing. Well, not quite, but I'll get to that. 

So you dress as a douchebag, sharpie "#yolo" on your arm because you think you're clever, and head to your friend's dorm in a different building with your roommate, who's dressed herself as a wookie - she's really committed too, the face paint is remarkable. Anyway you get there. There's a weird assortment of costumes going on. Two of your friends are in the midst of doing some day of the dead face paint, so you start taking shots to pass the time. You watch as your roommate gets in a wrestling match with a bike, and then...

BLACK OUT.

WAKE UP. Your roommate is running down the hallway. She's screaming something unintelligible. She stops to throw up in front of the elevator. BLACK OUT.

WAKE UP. Now she's throwing up from the fourth story of the building onto the parked bikes below. BLACK OUT. 

WAKE UP. You're in a bush outside the dorm. You're throwing up in your hands and carefully trying to hide it in the foliage. Some RA's find you. They ask you how you're doing. The following morning your friend will tell you that you told them you were fine, then threw up, then told them you weren't feeling so hot. You will only remember the throwing up part. BLACK OUT. 

WAKE UP. You're in your dorm room. The RA's are writing you up. Your roommate is bouncing on her bed. She's still screaming something unintelligible. You accidentally dropkick your phone off the third floor of your building. It hits a car below. BLACK OUT.

WAKE UP. You're head is on the toilet and it's 5 AM. You go to your mirror to inspect the damage. The right side of your face is bruised from what I imagine is the extensive use of a toilet seat as a cushion. You look like shit. You crawl into bed, wake up two hours later to find your roommate awake, alert and also looking like shit. The two of you have an 8:30 AM class. You go. The teacher asks you why you look like you died. I could go on forever because this story is truly a shit show.

Naturally, young me, you're going to have all the holes between the black out and wake up filled in for you by your friend later that hangover-ridden November afternoon, but I think for now you get the point. So what advice am I trying to give you? Well, for all the hell and humiliation that night is going to bring you, it's also going to be the highlight of your freshman career. You're going to make the world's biggest asshole of yourself, you're not going to make it to any parties, the smell of vodka will send you running to a bathroom for a year, that #yolo sharpie tat is not going to take kindly to soap and you're going to have a truly embarrassing sit down with your resident advisor, but it's all going to be worth it. Because you had fun. You let loose and enjoyed yourself and there's nothing quite as valuable as that when you're battling the never-ending  blackhole of depression that can be adapting to college. After that night it will take you far too long for you to circle back to that mindset. So embrace it. Trust me, you won't be disappointed. 

Much love, 

Coco