"This is going to get worse before it gets better.”

Like most students, going into my senior year I needed to catch up on some credits, so I was taking a few blow-off summer classes.

My birthday also happened to fall in this time span and I wasn't going to miss out on a good bar night with a few friends picking up the tab. Long story short, I got loaded off Michelob Ultra and Jager Bombs. When I woke up at 8:50 a.m. to go to my 9:00 Music in Society class, I had a horrendous case of cotton mouth. I found a pitcher of blue raspberry Kool-ade, which I slammed right before stumbling off to class.

Not more than 10 minutes into the class I felt it. I actually remember saying to myself a Krusty the Clown line, which I had heard on The Simpson’s the previous day, "This is going to get worse before it gets better.”

I was sitting in the very back row of the class; I got up and bolted toward the door, knocking over a bunch of peoples books and notepads. I didn't make it. I went on to puke what seemed to be close to a gallon of nasty, blue liquidy chunks, some of which I caught in hands.

I threw the puke that was in my hands into the garbage can, and just continued vomiting blue. It was so loud and nasty.

There were at least 50 sets of eyes on me. The room was completely silent except for me hurling away. When I thought (key word THOUGHT) I was done, I went into the hallway and into the bathroom to clean up. I puked again in a urinal with someone in the stalls taking a dump. I waited until the teacher put everyone on break, and the break was over, to sneak back into the classroom so nobody would be staring at me like they surely would have done if I walked back alone. It didn't help much, they knew who I was and what I had done.

I went into that stupid class hung over many more times during those 6 weeks. Nobody would ever talk to me, yet they always stared. I still think of that morning every time hear anything about a music class, or whenever I drink anything blue.