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Allison Brummet
The Culinary Institute of America
Class of 2010
"I have no idea how I got there. I woke up and all I had on were my boxers. I was drunk."
"I got drunk so I could kiss him. I didn't think I'd be confident enough to do it sober."
"I gave up smoking. I only smoke when I'm drunk."
Every Monday morning before class begins, people tell stories of being drunk. Stories about being found completely naked in a public place, almost getting arrested, kissing someone random. Whenever these stories are told, people laugh. No one thinks less of the person who tells the tale. Why? Because the storytellers were always drunk when it happened. They weren't responsible for their actions; they weren't in control themselves. They were just too drunk.
I thought I knew what I was getting into when a couple of our classmates had invited my friends and me to their ritual Saturday night party. I'd been to a couple parties back home; we would dance and socialize and laugh. Some people always drank, but I never did, so I thought nothing of it. Why would this party be any different? I was hoping to meet new people, dance, and whatever I could do to socialize like a normal college student.
I thought, "People have to be exaggerating when they tell their stories Monday morning."
When we walked into the house, everyone stared. The house was small and dingy, something that a group of college kids could afford to rent. Soon after we entered, they resumed their activities. Some guys were playing beer pong. They were really into it, most likely trying to impress the girls watching. Others smoked cigarettes and drank cheap beer from large plastic cups. People were dancing sensually with one another, disregarding any rules or thoughts concerning "personal bubbles". Couples were kissing avidly while their friends laughed raucously. The flash from multiple cameras lit up their entangled tongues. The couples were too drunk to notice they were being caught on film.
"So this is what everyone always talks about on Monday," I thought, "and they weren't kidding."
"Pull Jake's shirt off for me," a drunken classmate of mine asked me, "I wanna see what his stomach looks like!" Before I could utter a response, she stumbled across the room, sloshing beer onto the floor and people unfortunate enough to be in her way. No one seemed to mind her behavior; everyone was just as drunk.
I wondered, "Can't she see how stupid she looks? Does she actually think guys will find her more attractive this way?"
Another classmate noticed I wasn't drinking and asked me, "Are you gonna do it?"
"Do what?" I responded.
"Drink," he said, as if it was the most evident thing in the world.
I kept asking myself, "What's wrong with these people? Why are they acting like this?" In class they seem so professional, so responsible. But now, they seemed so primal, as if social boundaries and rules didn't exist. Is this their idea of relaxing? Of socializing? I wondered what would happen if they could look back at themselves in this moment in time. Would they feel guilty? What would their parents think? What would our professors think?
I started to question myself, wondering what had attracted me to this party in the first place. What had attracted everyone else? I thought I'd come to meet new people and have a good time. But then I wondered. Was that what I really wanted? Or did I just want to drink? Did I want to have a story to tell on Monday? Did I want my classmates to see me as a person, as a friend, rather than just a classmate? Did I want them to think of me as a confident adult?
Later, after my friends had managed to swallow a couple cups each of beer, they started to loosen up. I, on the other hand, just couldn't bring myself to drink. I kept asking myself why. Why couldn't I just act normal for once in my life and have a drink like everyone else? I didn't get any more time to ponder this because my friends wanted to leave. I didn't mind. Everyone was so drunk they couldn't hold a conversation, couldn't stand long enough to dance. No one wanted to get to know me. I was utterly bored. My friends and I decided it was time to go.
With all inevitability, Monday arrived. As I sat in class that day I heard many stories about what had happened at the party after we'd left. I had nothing to share.
"I didn't mean to go that far with him," a classmate of mine explained sheepishly, "but I was drunk."
And suddenly, with that simple statement, I had my epiphany. My decision not to drink stemmed from such a straightforward concept; I am in charge of my life and the decisions I make. If I become intoxicated, all of that is taken away. I wouldn't be in control of myself.
My parents, my schooling, and Alcoholedu had given me the knowledge I needed to make the right decision: the decision to stay sober. Alcoholedu taught me that there are other ways to have fun and relax. Instead of getting drunk, I know that I can play sports, join a school club, volunteer, or dance; I can do so much more with my life when I am in control. I know that being a confident and mature adult has nothing to do with consuming alcohol. I know that it's ok if my peers do not accept me for my decision; true friends accept you for who you are, not what you drink. I'm still not sure why other people choose to drink, but I do know why I don't.
I always want to be in control of my life, and I always will.
I choose to be sober.
I choose, simply, to live.
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