I was one of three freshmen living in the suite, but I was lucky enough to play tennis with one of the older girls so I made friends pretty quickly. Friends that I thought I would have forever, as you tend to think when your starting in a new city, on a new chapter. I was lucky enough to go to college in the wonderful city of Boston MA, which is more like a small town. Plenty of colleges, bars and opportunities to have stories that you can tell over and over again for years to come.
I was invited to a tailgate for the Boston College vs Notre Dame football game. This is a top event in Boston. People gather, drink outside in the freezing cold and forget to actually go to the football game. I invited my newest friends Jen, Andrea and Kim to join me. Look at me a little freshman inviting them to a BC tailgate, watch out girls, you may have just met the coolest person you know. Obviously they couldn't refuse me and I told my new brother-in-law that I and my new three friends for life would be joining me at this A list event.
Cut to the day before, Andrea tells me that none of them can go, somehow something more glamorous came up. I had to go alone. I was sick with anxiety. I knew all of the people at the tailgate, they were my sister's friends from college, BC alums. Plus my brother-in-laws brother was hosting so I would not be out of place. After a few hours of convincing myself to go, I get dressed, put on my tragic black boots, ugly silver purse and get on the T and head to BC.
Now it should be noted that my college was in the city of Boston. Boston College however is located in the suburbs of Boston in a town called Chestnut Hill. So taking the T took me about a half a hour, which was great because during that time I was able to start sweating profusely. I navigate through BC with ease, I still remembered how to get around since I visited my sister while she attended, you still could just follow the drunk kids to the parties. Some things never change. As I take a deep breath and shove my hands further into the pockets of my green North Face fleece I approach the gates to get into the tailgate. An officer stops me and asks for my ticket, like I said this is an exclusive event. Ticket? I didn't have a ticket, this is when the officer informed me that you had to have a ticket to get into the tailgate. Well fuck me. A huge wave of relief rushed over me. I didn't have to go! I didn't have to be social! Praise be! Then another wave rushed through me, one that said "Rebecca, you have to go. If you don't go you will look like a loser". Even my inner monologue thinks I'm an asshole. If I didn't have a ticket how was I supposed to get in. I hopped a fence. I hopped a fence.
A few people were hopping a fence on the street side of the tailgate. A sweet couple had figured out how to hop the fence, which is about 6 feet tall, black iron, with spikes on every other post. I propped my rubble soul, 2 inch boot on the tree and got my other leg over the fence. Jesus Christ as my witness how I didn't stab my vagina is beyond me. As I am straddling the fence I realize that I don't have a plan on how to get down. But somehow my other leg comes off the tree and I am finally on the other side. I'm in. It's 3 o'clock in the afternoon.
I find everyone I know rather quickly and there is a beer in my hand from that moment on. I was so happy to be there. I knew these people and since my sisters wedding was just a few days ago I had two new brothers there. I drank, I had some cigarettes, I charmed and delighted my sisters friends. This was how it was supposed to go. I was doing it. I was living the high life like Steve Winnwood always sang about. After a few hours of my sisters friends and new family members chitting and chatting with me, my sister's friend Michael came up to me and handed me a ticket. Are you fucking kidding me. Where were you 4 hours ago when I almost got my vagina stabbed? I now had a ticket, the game had started, no one was moving.
I reached for a beer from the tub, like I had done about a dozen times before, only to now realize that this wasn't out beer tub. Then I looked to my right and my brother in law Casey was chugging Jim Beam from a handle. This was my fat lady. It was time to go home. I stumbled, gracefully, over to Brett the host of the festivities. I thanked him for a lovely time and explained that I had to go for the evening. "How are you getting home?" I say, "I'm gonna take the T." "Take a cab." "I'm gonna take the T." "Take a cab" Brett said more like a command rather than a suggestion. "Okay, I'll take a cab." We hug and I am on my way home. As I make my way through BC's littered campus, I said to myself "Sucker! I'm taking the T!" The T was a dollar and a cab would be 25, so I was being a smart economical freshman I took the T.
I stepped up into the T car, took hold of the pole and swung myself into the seat. I propped my head against the glass and pass out. There was no one on the T with me when I fell asleep, but when I awoke it was packed. A woman was sitting next to me and dozens and dozens of people were standing, some were even in costume since it was close to Halloween. I could barely see, my contacts were a blur. There was so much talking going on. And I was so drunk. I was so sick. I felt it creep through my body and up through my throat. There was no stopping it. I didn't even try. It was 8 o'clock at night.
I threw up all over my right leg. Don't worry I moved my shitty silver purse out of the way.
The woman next to me gets up. Then I begin to hear the mumbles, "Oh god she threw up" "She's alone." "Get her off the T." Fuck them, I paid my fucking dollar and I was getting my dollars worth! As I continued to sit in my own vomit, a man dressed as a vampire berated me. I realize though that I could have slept past my stop. I grab the same pole that I used joyfully while entering the train to hoist my drunken, puke riddled body up and step towards the stairs. As I approach the stairs the doors close, and there is a collective "AWWWWWWW" in the train car. I stood atop the stairs used the pole to turn and face my fellow passengers, raise my right hand and proceed to give the entire train the finger. The doors opened, I stumbled out and got into a cab, where I fell asleep again. It was 8:50pm.
I get back to the dorm, where I try to walk as fast as possible pass campus security. They laughed at me. I walk into my suite where my friend Jen's boyfriend, who didn't drink, was watching TV. "Hey Becca" Nick said to me as I head directly to the bathroom and into the handicapped stall resting my head on the toilet seat. Jen comes in to check on me and I simply tell her that I can't puke anymore. She grabbed some sweats for me and helps me change out of my puke jeans and ugly boots. Our friend Caryn, a RA, helped me to bed.
I woke up the next morning to missed calls from my mother and father, I was too consumed by the fear that they knew exactly what I had done the night before to answer. I went to Jen's room to apologize, a sobbing uncontrollably apology, then went to the cafeteria to feed my hangover beast. My first real hangover of my college life. Liberating in a way. A war scar. A badge of humiliation to wear for a lifetime.
Lastly, I am happy to still call Jen and Kim friends.
