Read! One Crazy Night

February 28, 2007
As far as I am concerned, Australia is a land of endless possibility. Here, I can be myself, and accept people will like or dislike me on that basis. At home, that is, in Montana, my actions are still governed by who I was and what I have done previously. Every decision I make is weighed against my past, high school, junior high, and the years preceding and coming after them.
Theoretically, i should feel like I have complete freedom from the person I have been in regards to the community I was living in. Seriously, I was constantly considering my actions in relationship to high school, and what my high school classmates would think of waht I was doing. I wondered if I made a bad decision, would the news get back to my family? Would my high school teachers and friends and classmates find out, and how would that affect my current reputation? For a lot of people, this seems unreasonable. Why should my past so strongly affect the perception of otehrs in regards to myself/ THis, however, was the reality of my life. Some, including myself, would say, Australia is a fresh start. But I find although I have left the community behind, I have brought my past and my character with. I didn't drink in Bozeman because I didn't want to get a reputation as an alcoholic, or do something I was going to regret; in Australia, I drink, but never to the point where I'm going to jeopardize my reputation or compromise my beliefs.
Concerns about my rep and about self control clearly didn't enter into my concious thought for an impacting amount last Friday night. Friday was a planned excursion to Sydney and a club called the Retro Hotel. For sixteen dollars, we rode the bus from Campbelltown to Sydney, entrance into the club, a bar tab, and food. I am very clearly white and very clearly Montanan, which automatically makes me incapable of creating movement even remotely resembling dancing, and therefore formed the hypothesis that if I were slightly inebriated, I might not care as much about my inability to dance. Thus, I determined to drink copious amount of beer very quickly until the bar tab ran out, then ride the buzz for the rest of the night. This plan was executed with ease and I found myself very drunk and dancing to very odd music by eight o' clock at night. By "very odd" music, I mean music that was clearly out-of-date in America, but popular in Australia. The name of the club (The Retro) also apparently gave them license to play old/retro music, including ACDC and Bruce Springstein. although "Jessie's Girl" is clearly one of the greatest songs of all time, it was never meant to be danced to. But there I was, rockin' like a hurricane, in the middle of the dance floor like a mad idiot.
At some point early in the night, I made contact with a UWS Alumni who happened to be at the bar and had heard that a group from UWS was there, and, I don't know, came over to see if there was anyone he knew there or something. Anyway, somehow I ended up talking to him, and then left to do a bit more drunken dancing.
At some point, I found myself on the dance floor with Mystery Man #1, the UWS Alum who had introduced himself earlier as Brett. Brett, despite being white, had some pretty good dance moves, and I ended up dancing with him. I was still very drunk, probably more drunk than I realized, and so when he went to kiss me, I didn't think about it, and just went ahead and kissed him back. Knowing we'd have to leave soon, I took this opportunity to remove myself and him from the dance floor and to talk. This lasted approximately thirty-six seconds until I decided it would probably just be best if we kept dancing, a plan I'm sure would have worked out very nicely had Marley not interrupted.
Marley had been there all night, mostly dancing with Caitlin. Caitlin is my housemate and Marley is fairly infatuated with her. Not that I can blame him. Caitlin is obviously very beautiful and has a great personality to add to it; she is friendly and fun and very interested in other people. Unfortunately for Marley, she is also extremely recently broken up with her boyfriend of three years. Yeah. Bit of an awkard position for all guys involved, and I do mean, all guys. Let's put it this way: The best way to get introduced to every singly guy in the club/room/campus/residence is to have a fabulously good looking roommate. That way, every guy will come up to you , introduce himself, and promptly ask about your roommate. Which automatically delegates you (that is, me) to position of friend or "connection." Ah well
Anyway. Marley comes up to me (and Brett, because he was dancing quite close to me) and says, "Caitlin's really sick, can you come outside?" It was like I became immediately sober. Okay, not immediately, but I did sober up enough to grab Brett's hand (the only indication I was still drunk, like I'd have had the courage to touch him sober?) and follow Marley outside.
Caitlin was sitting to the side of the building, head on her lap, with vomit all around her.
"Caitlin? It's Larissa. Are you okay?" I asked, as I knelt next to her. I knelt in her puke, but I was more concerned about her than what condition my jeans would be in tomorrow morning.
She mumbled, unable to reply in a coherent sentence. Marley hovered behind me and asked, "Do you think someone's spiked her drink?"
I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes, having not considered it as a possibility, but also because Marley had mentioned this much too loud. Somewhere between the front door and finding Caitlin, I had sobered up an incredibly amount, and realized that although Caitlin couldn't or wouldn't answer me, she could understand everything we were saying. I wanted to be like, "C'mon Marley, would you mind walking away before you freak her out anymore?"
Within seconds, Caitlin had passed out completely. The bodyguards and security of the club were outside with us, and were also concerned someone had spike her drink, or that she'd been taking drugs in combination iwth drinking. The one good thing they did was mention laying her in a recovery position. Having instructed the people surrounding me as to how to do this, we made sure Caitlin was comfortable, and an RA (resident assistant) made the decision to call an ambulance.
While we were waiting for the ambulance, Caitlin's ex-boyfriend walked around the corner. The whole situation quickly gained an aura of "soap opera" as Brent stood there, next to Marley, the old boyfriend versus the possible new one. To make things more complicated, the RA who had phoned the ambulance and would be riding to the hospital was Marley's ex-girlfriend, Angie, who still has feelings for him.
Somewhere in the (slightly drunken) chaos that ensued, I became aware that Brett was still standing outside with me, which was a bit of a shock. I don't know how many guys who had just picked up a girl in a club would stand outside and wait around while she took care of her drunken friend; I'm pretty sure I told him to go back inside and have fun, but he stayed outside. I don't know if I'll actually hear form him again, but a very big part of me, or at least the little part of me that allows myself to consider guys, hopes i do hear from him.
Caitlin didn't spend long in the ER, just long enough to get fluids and regain consciousness. He drink hadn't been spiked; she had just overloaded her system with alcohol. In the meantime, I had spent a few tense hours in the ER with Brett, talking about meaningless things and taking walks. By this time, I was again feeling the effects of the drinks I'd had earlier. Marley and Angie waited together in the waiting room while Brent (Caitlin's ex) went back into the examination room with her.
Brett left at about two a.m. and the rest of us waited until about three and then left, with Caitlin, to catch a ride back to Campbelltown. Downtown Sydney at 3:00 a.m. on a Friday night is not something they put in the travel brochures for a reason. It's not the prettiest aspect of the city. Anyway, we caught the Night Rider (night bus) back to Campbelltown, an experience I hope never to repeat for two reasons: 1) the individuals who ride the Night Rider are not the cream of the crop. There were a few I was suspect to call human. 2) the driver had clearly been on shift too many hours when he started skipping roundabouts in favor of plowing straight through. The bumps kept everyone on the bus awake, but when the jolts are also waking up your driver... it's hard to see them as a good thing.
Friday night was the most eventful and interesting night of my life. Consider the drunken dancing, kissing randoms, love square, ER visit, late-night bus ride the experience of a lifetime and a "Welcome to Australia" I'm not likely to forget.