Sickness: A Survival Guide

Place: Lincoln Park

Operation: The Apartment

Things you should know before venturing out with medical school students*:

1) These individuals are interesting studies. They obviously have experience with drinking, but have seemingly forgotten how to consume alcohol of any sort.

2) Binge drinking is mandatory.

3) The old adage quality over quantity holds true for nights out but not for liquors consumed.

4) At least one person will vomit at the pregame.

5) Another will vomit at the bar.

6) You will hear the phrase, "I'm so drunk" at least five times (most likely from the individual who appears the least drunk).

7) And finally, you will definitely hear about alcohol dehydrogenase or antidiuretic hormone. As well as the subject of their last test.

8) You are the most sober. Accept it now.

*Upon review most of these points have similarities to both high school and college drinking. Duly noted.

Basically, the true comedy in this night arises at the bar. I being a casual observer of those around me happen to notice a girl who is scantily clad in a cutout dress. 

The cutouts were in the following places: Breasts, stomach, arms, and back. If your imagination can wrap around the concept of nudity you basically have the dress correctly categorized.

Well, I thought it would be funny to ask this young woman for a proper dance. At first, I questioned myself (My pulse was racing and my palms were sweaty. I have never been that nervous to approach a girl. Eeek.), but then I thought, "What the heck? I have this whole female interact thing in the bag." Little did I know, little did I know.

I saunter over gallantly looking pretty good if I may say so myself. I ask the girl, "Hey, do you want to dance with this?" making an obviously exaggerated dance maneuver. 

At first, I cannot hear her reply so I ask her to repeat herself. 

She slowly lifts her finger to my face, and says a simple two syllable word: "Sickness."

WHAT. THE. HELL?

I have no idea how to react to this scenario. Is there a protocol? So I just say, "I mean, well, if you, ah, change your mind, ah, I'll be over there."

So suave.

After this brilliant interaction, she proceeds to have a photoshoot with her Snooki-esque friend in the mirror at the entry way to the bar.

Men literally could not get further away from the spectacle...Ultimate embarrassment commences.

And that is how I got rejected by the anti-siren of Lincoln Park.

Reasons I Should Have Terminal Brain Damage

Reason One: my sister's jealousy

When I was three or younger (it's hard to say exactly), my dad was walking and asked if I would enjoy a piggyback ride. Little did I know that my sister would erupt in a fit of absolute jealousy. Like molten lava, at first just bubbling at the surface, and then blasting forth from the pits of hell, finally covering a small ancient Roman village in volcanic ash, she leaped from the ground fueled by envy of my happiness. She knocked me off of my father's back with her razor sharp finger nails (much like a velociraptor). A playful afternoon turned to tragedy as I tumbled toward the ground. Joy turned to terror. The end was near. I fell from my father's back into the pavement of the sidewalk head first. A mark/crack in the sidewalk still resides where the event occurred. (I'll show it to you if you ask.) To say the least, I now lack a substantial amount of memories from my childhood due to this series of unfortunate events.

Meet my sister!
Image from: http://www.rareresource.com/pho_velociraptor.htm

Reason Two: my over-enthusiasm toward volunteerism

In the third grade, our teacher asked if anyone would enjoy helping to carry ice cream in from her trunk. For some reason, the combination of volunteering and ice cream drove me to insanity. I had to help. I don't know why, but I JUST HAD TO. I wasn't even one of the first round picks. I didn't care, I just wanted to get that ice cream into the building. To think of it, I'm not even sure the ice cream was for us. O well, anyway, the teacher eventually realized my undying desire to aid in the ice cream moving process, and she casually asked if I would like to help. I immediately jumped from my seat in a fit of joy. FINALLY, IT WAS MY TIME TO SHINE like the brilliant sun that shone over our heads that fine morning.

How sad for me that I would not even get the chance to handle these ice cream treats. As I RAN toward the door, a "loose" tile caught me off guard. (There is absolutely no way that there was a loose tile in the flooring. This is the lie I continually told so as to make the situation less embarrassing. I mean, I had just nearly fallen out of my seat raising my hand to volunteer. But whatever.) I tripped. This may be hard to believe since now I am the king of poise and grace that you know me as. But it happened. I tripped, and then I slid across the floor into a door jam at a high enough speed as to split my head open. As my parents drove me to the hospital, my only regret was that I didn't get any ice cream.

Reason Three: my jealousy toward my sister

The summer after the above "incident" had occurred. My sister and I decided to play a "quick" game of monopoly. This spiraled out of control until it was eleven pm and both of us hated each other. We really just wanted the game to end. Isn't that the way monopoly works? It starts out fun, teaching us about capitalism and property management, then degrades into an epic battle. No one can win, especially when the game involves only two people. The end never comes.

Well, as I was eight years old, I little body could not handle the eleven pm hour that we had come to. BUT I HAD TO WIN. Therefore, when my sister managed to thwart me multiple times in a row, I went crazy. I jumped from the floor onto her back much like she had done years earlier (foreshadowing much?) Lucky for her, she was not three years old and defenseless, because she threw me from her back into a coffee table, splitting my head on the exact opposite side from just months before. My dad was furious as he drove me to the hospital, but hey dad, it was just for the love of the game.

The coffee table still resides in my eldest sisters house. I hope my niece and nephew will be able to escape my fate.

I'm back in 2011. With vengeance.