“Love is like quicksand. The deeper you fall in it, the harder it is to get out.” - Unknown
Hmm… To pizza or not to pizza… That is the question.
“Hey Rose… where are… Where are you going?” drifted Marissa’s small and slightly slurred voice from somewhere to the left of me. I stopped my fifth or so attempt at tying my shoelaces back up to look and see if I could pinpoint exactly where my roommate had chosen to lie down. I spotted her rich, flowing hair on the floor, splayed out in all sorts of directions, before I saw the rest of her. She looked peaceful. It was as if she had discovered the floor to the side of the bed as being not only more comfortable, but a more acceptable place to find slumber. I giggled as I stumbled over to her and we made the joint effort to hoist her fairly limp body onto an actual mattress.
“Kyle… Kyle invited me… because his room… and there’s pizza,” I mumbled in a similarly sloppy fashion which was shortly followed by a strange half snort half cackle that seems to only occur at certain levels of inebriation.
That’s right kids. I was drunk. I’m not proud of it, and I’m not advocating it. I’m just being honest with you here and trying to tell the story as truthfully as possible. I was nineteen with little experience of independence and nightlife, and I was trying to make the most of it. Basically, I was doing what most young people stuck in between their teens and their twenties with access to alcohol do: getting a little wild and not caring about knowing my limits.
It was only the second city of our tour stop, Houston, Texas, and already it was proving to rival the amazing experiences we’d had in our first stop in New Orleans. We had arrived in the city early that morning and had the day off to have fun. Marissa and I had gone shopping during the day and then a majority of the cast went out together that night. We had just come back from a night of dinner where they didn’t card and dancing at a club event in which Kyle was hosting and Far East Movement were performing. If there had been a contest as to who had drunk the most, Marissa and I probably would have won that night. But I wouldn’t exactly call us winners, because Marissa had had almost half a bottle of vodka accidentally poured on her at the club, and I had lost my brand new iPhone 4 that my dad had given me as a belated birthday present before we left for tour.
The club had gotten a little out of control that night to say the least and when cops came around, Kyle helped escort all of us swiftly back to the car that would take us back to our hotel. It was then that I had realized my phone was missing and I freaked out and thought my life was over. Crazy thoughts rushed through my head like my parents were never going to be able to get in contact with me again and everyone outside of the tour cast would think I had died since I wouldn’t have my phone on me to respond to them.
Kyle had grabbed my shoulders, leaned in closer to my ear, and said, “Shhh…It’s ok, Rose. I will try my best to find it. You need to get out of here.” He was close to shouting what with all the people, music, and general club inflicted noise all around us, but his voice had sounded soothing and reassuring to me nonetheless.
Now it was what seemed like many, many hours later and I was getting a phone call in my hotel room from him telling me to come up to his room. He said that he was hanging out with two other friends and that they had brought pizza if I wanted a couple of slices to help sober up. But let’s be real. I didn’t even need the “sober up” excuse before I was up and clumsily trying to get my shoes back on not even two seconds after hanging up.