“Is this how you celebrate every time you take an exam?” they demanded to know, as I asked them to pull over again so I could dry heave onto the side of the road. I didn’t bother responding — it’s unlikely that they wanted to hear my answer anyway.
Lesson learned: Always pack your bags before you go out.
Anonymous, Boston University
Built to Spill frontman Doug Martsch + the Paradise Rock Club = unconsciousness. Or perhaps more accurately: beyond-excessive amounts of THC + crowded room = bad idea.
Here’s the story. On two occasions during my four years at BU, friends of mine passed the fuck out at Martsch shows at the venerable Comm Ave club. In the first incident, a couple of friends and I thought it would be a great idea to do gravity bong hits — a wholly unnecessary, exceedingly dangerous activity in which one forces an entire gallon of smoke into his or her lungs at once — before hitting up Martsch’s solo show at the ’Dise. We did so and headed to the club. Inside, it was hot, stuffy, claustrophobic, and apparently too much for my over-intoxicated, under-oxygenated friend (we’ll call him Frank) to take.
Frank fainted, fell face first onto the floor, and chipped one of his front teeth in half. You’d think that’d be enough to teach us not to over-consume before going to the Paradise, but there we were about a year later eating enormous pot brownies in preparation for a Built to Spill show. Similar circumstance, similar result. Mary (not her real name) ended up passing out in her boyfriend’s arms during the first song. She later had to shell out thousands of dollars for the subsequent ambulance ride and hospital visit.
Lesson learned: If you need to get high before a show, take it slow — smoke a joint.
Adam Reilly, Carleton College
I suffered from a small kleptomaniacal streak in high school and college. Generally, I just stole random crap that happened to be sitting around — a life-size “Easy Spirit” sign featuring women playing basketball in high heels from a mall; a promotional banner from Taco Bell; a big, harvesty Thanksgiving photo of assorted gourds and grains from my college cafeteria. It was actually pretty enjoyable.
One night, though, I got busted taking a freshly baked white-chocolate-macadamia-nut cookie from the Carleton snack bar. I’ve tried to forget the details, but I can’t help remembering a snack-bar worker (an adult, not a student; a graying middle-aged woman, I think) witnessing my shameful act and saying, real matter of fact, “Did you pay for that?” I just mumbled some lame-ass drunken apology and skulked away. Truly humiliating. My thievin’ days ended there and then.
Lesson learned: There’s no shame in paying.
Vanessa Czarnecki, Boston University
While spending a semester in Paris, a few friends and I treated ourselves to a night on the town. But in the city of lights and exorbitant prices, a single beer can leave your wallet 10 euros lighter (that’s about $13 USD, for those of you don’t excel in math). Enter the perfect solution: Long Island ice tea — saddled, American style, with enough alcohol that you need only one drink all night.
