Go hard or go home. That was my moto the night before world-renowned actress Taylor Schilling got to witness me throw up a nights worth of fireball all over my mom’s car.
It was a hazy afternoon in the depths of Toronto when I started to not feel so hot. As in I am going to throw up right now.
Battle of the Bands
No, it was not Christmas, New Years or even my day of birth. It was battle of the bands at Ryerson University. I was visiting a friend and we decided that going to a hot and smelly amphitheater at a university was a great idea.
There was aggressive music and the art scene was incredibly present. In short, I really didn’t want to be there and she did. Wow, am I a good friend.
New Friends
As any night goes where there was enough drinking so that I become social I made friends. As my friend was down in the pit I wandered upstairs to use the bathroom. I did not find it.
I found a sweaty gentleman with a bottle of fireball and a need to share. As I forgot about my wonderful friend down below I attempted to drink enough of this cinnamon flavored shit to make the music actually good. And you know maybe make this guy attractive.
Karaoke
As the battle of the bands ensued so did my drunken stupor. It was about 11 and I wanted to get the hell out of there, so I suggested karaoke to my new friends, we found my lady in the pit and off we went.
We were near College station in the heart of Toronto looking for a karaoke bar, what we found instead was a rundown pub that was so happening doing karaoke.
Birthday
When we arrived it was us, a group of women in their 40s and the owner. We were a lively mob and they had a deal on shots. I was in my zone. 30 minutes later I had karaoke my heart out and didn’t give many a turn with the mic. As I look at the table next to us the birthday women starts talking to me. Saying how fun we are and how she wishes she was 19 again.
Before I know it her friends all want to leave but she doesn’t. I suggest that she stay out and party with us which she thinks is a great idea. 4 shots later and a call to her cute son, I was loaded. And my friend was tired, and my new friend was trying to be more than a friend. It was time to leave.
But birthday women could barely move, so we on the brisk walk home had to figure out how to get this random lady to her domain.
Home
We finally hail her a cab and continue on walking, in the wrong direction. I’m belting out “I got you baby” as I skip along College at 2 am, talking to anyone who would listen. We get back to the apartment and decide that we are hungry.
My friend is a vegan and wants tacos so we search Uber eats until we find a vegan place that delivers tacos at almost 4 in the morning. The tacos arrive and we munch. This is when I remember that I am meeting my mom at 9 am.
Morning
I wake up foggy and confused still in my makeup and the clothes from the night before. I smell like cinnamon, old bar, and sweat. It’s 8:50, I’m screwed. I scramble to look half decent and zoom to the lobby with all my stuff and a screaming headache. I see the van and hop in, assuming that I can milk this hangover on the ride and no one would be the wiser.
As my mom drives like a madwomenI start to feel something deep in my stomach. They have been asking me questions the whole car ride and I have been mumbling responses. I scream “roll down the window”, and my mom and GRANDMA start laughing. The window was rolled once we parked and I projectile vomited all over the side of the rental.
My mom is laughing and tells me to clean it up, but we don’t have napkins, I respond. She doesn’t care, so I pull out an uh, sanitary napkin and get to work on the side of the van.
Just then Ms. Taylor Schilling decides to grace us with her presence and looks me dead in the eyes. Doesn’t say a word and goes about her day. The family freaks and decides to follow her into a book store. After we stalk her we decide to leave and just as I turn around to get one last look Taylor Schilling smirks at me.
