I am not, nor have I ever been, a party girl. I’ve never even been that big of a drinker. I’ve gone out on occasion, but I’ve never been too crazy. I can recall the moment I was scared “sober,” allowing me to dodge any kind of drunken behavior.

When I was in college the last Friday of the semester before finals was known as “Dead Day,” because the university would cancel all classes allowing students to study and prepare for finals week. The night before “Dead Day” (Thursday night) was obviously known as “Dead Day Eve.”

“Dead Day Eve” was the biggest party night of the entire semester. This is when students would go out, get drunk, and party into the wee hours of Dead Day. This was a college tradition that my dorm roommate, Shayna, couldn’t resist. She and her high school friend, party girl Jessica, had the night planned out and encouraged me to come along. With our other friend Brooke in tow, the four of us headed out for our first fabulous Dead Day Eve celebration of freshmen year.

Brooke and I were not party girls and were not experience in the college party atmosphere. We ended up at a house party on the edge of another university campus in town. This house was a small two bedroom shack with very little furniture and an overabundance of people. A thick cloud of smoke welcomed us as we walked through the front door. I noticed that the smoke didn’t always smell like cigarettes; a smell I was familiar with. This smell was…..sweet. I would later find out that the sweet smell was marijuana.

When a minor beer run was announced, Shayna and Jessica bolted for the alcohol leaving Brooke and I alone in a room full of strangers. We had both just gotten brand new winter coats and were regretting wearing them into the house when a drunken guy stumbled into us almost lighting my coat on fire.

“Hey!” I exclaimed as he stumbled away. Brooke and I looked at each other with horror. Where were we and how much long did we have to stay? There was no room to move in the house because of all the people. We found the one and only couch in the house but it was occupied a girl who had passed out. She lay sideways on the couch, eyes closed and mouth open. Two guys sat on both sides of her smoking and drinking. I wondered who this girl was. Who was she here with? Did they know she was passed out? What if something happens to her? What would her mother think if she could see her daughter right now? Brooke interrupted my thoughts when she asked if I was ready to get out of there. I happily agreed.

We finally found Shayna and Jessica and asked them if they were ready to leave. They had just paid some guy to go buy them beer and weren’t ready to leave yet. Brooke got the car keys from Shayna and she and I spent the rest of the night outside in Shayna’s car. We waited for what seemed like hours until finally Shayna agreed to drive us home and then return to the party.

When Brooke and I finally made it back to the dorms, we vowed never to do that again. For the rest of our college careers we spent Dead Day Eve at the movie theater.

To this day the image of that disgusting house with drunk and high people everywhere has stuck with me. I think this is probably why I stayed away from hard core partying. I never wanted to end up like the girl on the couch.