So to carry on from my last post, I was just about to go to the first event of freshers. Obviously, as any sensible student knows, to avoid spending a disgusting amount of money on drinks, you always pre-drink. Unfortunately for me, I’ve never been that good at time-management, so by the time I had finished getting ready/freaking out about what to wear, it was almost time to go to the flat below us for pre-drinks. Luckily for me, the other two girls were exactly the same, and by the time we’d all finished, we only had enough time to grab the alcohol we were taking, down a few shots as a flat (I say a flat but one flatmate had gone back home to watch football, and the other wasn’t moving in until the next day). We walked down to the flat that was hosting pres, carefully I might add, since the heels I was wearing were slightly dangerous.
We walked into the open flat, where music was already blaring out, and started drinking. Looking back on it, the vodka I chose probably wasn’t the best idea, since once we’d been introduced to everyone, the drinking games began. We started off with Ring of Fire, which is also aptly named Circle of Death, and as far as I can remember, I think I re-fillled my drink about four times, with far too much vodka. We played other games of course, including a very invasive game of never have I ever, and we all carried on drinking. Once everyone was too drunk to play games, we ended up splitting into little groups to chat/listen to the music. Of course, drunk me thought it’d be a good idea to challenge one of my flatmates (the eventual boyfriend) and one of the girls who lived in the flat we were in to start a twerking contest, which of course I won, but, looking back on, also deeply regret. By this point, I had lost the ability to think before I say anything to people, and, if it hadn’t been for one of the girls in my flat asking me to check if their dress was still zipped, I am still 99.999% sure I would have gone up to any guy there and told them I loved them, since that’s what I seem to do whenever I have a drop of alcohol.
Eventually, it was time to move things down to the common room in my halls, where we’d drink a bit more, and then walk to the bus station to get to the club we were going to that night. Somehow, I was able to walk down some stairs, back up them to get my student card, back down them at some speed and then across the courtyard to get to the common room, all without stumbling/falling, which I could count as an accomplishment sober, let alone as drunk as I was then. I’m still not that sure how long we spent in that room, but I can definitely remember that it got slightly weird. While talking to my flatmate, who is half english and half Hungarian, we both decided that we must be related (this is impossible, since no member of my family is even slightly Hungarian, and none of his family is even slightly Irish). We debated this for a while, to the amusement of the rest of my flatmates, and then it was time to move to the bus stop. We had to make one more stop at our flat, since most of us had forgotten our student cards even after the trip we made before going to the common room (this is what alcohol does to people), and it was at this point that I realised just how drunk I was. I downed two pints of water (never a good idea-always sip it slowly), and then announced that I was going to bed.
Now this is where it starts to get a bit disgusting, so I apologise if anyone is horrified by my drunk behaviour, I am too don’t worry! I got into bed, still fully clothed, with a full face of makeup on, and attempted to go to sleep. I’m not sure whether I did actually sleep or not, but I woke up at about midnight to find that I had rolled off my bed, and was lying on a very uncomfortable carpet. I would have moved back into bed, but at this point I was already feeling pretty ill, and was worried about what would come out of moving so violently. Now, when you get as drunk as I was, and when you slowly begin to sober up following that drinking, one thing you’ll find is that the worse you feel, the more you violently shake, and all I’ll say is that I was shaking like I was lying in snow with summer clothes on. I somehow forced myself to get back into bed, and in hindsight, it probably would have been better to sleep on the floor, as the sudden movement made me feel even worse, which technically should have been impossible. I lay awake violently shaking for a while, until, and this is where it gets disgusting, I knew that I was going to be sick. Drunk me didn’t think to go the the bathroom, or to get the bin, so I was ill on my carpet, leaving a disgusting stain that I would have to clean in the morning. After that, I was able to fall asleep, but, apparently I’m a very restless drunk sleeper, as I woke up the next morning to find that I’d fallen off the bed again, into the sick, and lets just say I was nearly ill again after seeing the state of my hair.
Obviously, after a night as eventful as that, I was extremely hungover, so much so I didn’t dare turn any lights on, or make any sound, or move at all apart from to stagger to the shower to wash my own vomit out of my hair. I spent a good part of the day watching Netflix, which I feel should be marketed as the perfect hangover soother, since after watching god knows how many episodes of nearly every show I watched on there, I was feeling slightly more normal. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel normal enough to leave the flat, so was forced to decline my flatmates offer of going into town to buy fancy dress for the nights of freshers where we were supposed to dress up. I slept for a few more hours, and then woke up knowing that, even though I felt like death, I still had to persevere and go out again that night , as any true fresher would. That night’s theme was neon, so out came the brightest top I owned, and, with the aid of one of my new freshers friends, out came the crimped hair and pigtails. We went back to the same flat for pres, and luckily for me, everyone was feeling as questionable as I was, so we all restrained ourselves with how much we drank. On the way to the bus stop, I encountered someone who was probably at the same level of tipsiness as I was. We began discussing how we both needed to get a sugar daddy to help fund our lifestyles through university. We then encountered someone else, who nicely offered to be the sugar daddy we needed. Luckily nothing happened between us, as I was probably too drunk to realise that he was the type of guy who would sleep with any girl he could (there is a term for it, but I won’t use it as it has ‘offensive’ language in it).
The bus pulled up to the club, which was one of the student unions for our university, and then came the realisation that I’d forgotten my student card, which was pretty essential for me actually getting into the club. Thanks to some luck, and some very nice bouncers, I was allowed into club, left only with the warning that it was “just this once.” In each of the clubs/student unions there’s always a different genre of music, but for this night, it was just a mix of all the top songs ever. We danced, we drank, and since drunk me seems to enjoy it, we twerked and slut-dropped a lot. I can’t remember what time we made it back to the flat, but instead of going straight to bed, we chose to have some pizza and watch some Netflix. After that, we all split off to our own rooms to try and sleep, and prayed that we wouldn’t wake up feeling as dead as I was the night before (yes, I have set an example for everyone else in my flat).
The next night was army themed, so out came some green and black eyeshadow, my best pair of fishnets, and a whole lot of hairspray to hold in the army themed hairstyle I had attempted to make. That night became the first night where all six of us stayed in the club until the very end, and became so called ‘finishers’. In a classic girl move on a night out, I was forced to take my shoes off on the walk back to our flat, as I seem to have lost all sense of judgement, and had chosen to wear my most uncomfortable pair of heels- it’s never a good idea, please just stick with your nice comfy trainers, don’t kill your feet like I have done! That night wasn’t particularly eventful, no one got very drunk, no one got with anyone, and we all got home at an acceptable time.
For the next few nights, I was unfortunately forced to stay at home instead of go out, as I had been struck with the dreaded Freshers Flu (it’s as bad as it sounds, paired with a slight hangover and you’ll actually feel like you’ve died). On the second to last night, we were required to dress like we were going to a beach party, so out came the bikini top and skirt. When we arrived at the club, we were delighted to find that there was beach balls all around the club, so we then of course started a boys v girls game of dodgeball (I was left with a nice red mark on my head the next morning). That night was when I truly discovered myself, as I realised that after all these years of hatred, I actually loved every song from High School Musical, and I was now able to belt out all the lyrics of ‘Breaking Free’, with no mistakes whatsoever.
From what I’ve heard, the last night of freshers was just a normal clothes night, but, due to our overwhelming exhaustion/hangovers, the whole flat decided to stay in and watch some films. I went into this expecting to watch a comedy, or maybe even a TV series, but I was unfortunately outvoted, and was forced to watch a horror film. I won’t try and remember what the film was about, in an attempt to let myself sleep without nightmares tonight, but all that I can remember is that I was absolutely terrified afterwards. Luckily, I wasn’t the only one slightly traumatised by the film we’d been forced to watch, and we all watched a bit of a comedians tour to settle us down. We managed to find the courage to go to bed, and we all slept through the last night of freshers week, which brings this post to an end.
I’ve decided that leaving advice at the end of the post will become a regular thing, in an attempt to make sure that all you soon to be freshers possibly reading this won’t make the same mistakes that I did. First, learn not to drink a lot at pres, it will not work, and you will have to go home early. Second, eat something as soon as you wake up hungover, you might not feel like it, but you need it, trust me (I suggest something dry, like oatcakes, or plain toast). Third, don’t wear heels on a night out. Ever. It’s never a good idea, and as amazing as you look, you’ll thank yourself for not wearing them the next morning. Fourth, do not get with guys that say they will be your sugar daddy, they’re either complete creeps, or are looking to get with any and every girl they can. Fifth, if you decide to have a flat night in, do not back down in saying you don’t want to watch horror films, otherwise you will probably end up traumatised for the next few days. Lastly, if your course has any induction lectures, try and go to at least one of them, they are actually very useful, and you won’t feel like an idiot when your lecturer goes “anyone who went to the course induction would know this, so I won’t explain it further.” Find that resilience, and drag yourself out of bed, it’s worth it.