Not So Sweet 16

On my 16th birthday, I decided to have a nice meal with my family and then hang out with my friends at the AIA carnival.

I ate an enormous meal, and headed to meet up with my friends. We were having such a great time; it was the perfect, low-key way to spend my birthday.

As we were leaving the carnival, my stomach felt queasy. I told my friends and we sat down at the pier for a few minutes. They assured me that I’d be fine, and so we hopped on the 6X bus home. I tried texting my parents to let them know I was going to miss my curfew, but of course my phone died before I could send the message. They’re pretty strict about not being in touch so I was worried about the consequences I’d face for that.

The bus was packed, so we were all sitting at the very back of the top level. About halfway through the bus ride, as we were passing Happy Valley, I told my friends that I still felt like shit. We decided to move downstairs and they all filed out from the back of the bus towards the stairs. I followed them, weak in my knees and unable to walk steadily without being thrown around by every turn the bus made. I grasped the staircase’s railing for support and threw up my whole meal from earlier that night. But that wasn’t all. Embarrassed at the scene I’d caused, I tried to hurry down the stairs where my friends were waiting. I took another step and vomited again, this time all over my friend Jena’s beautiful trench coat. I looked at her apologetically, but was unable to express my regret before vomiting all over the floor of the bus. I begged the driver to let me off at the next stop.

He let me off, where I proceeded to throw up on the pavement. A woman passed by and asked me if I had been drinking, raising her eyebrows at me. Let me remind you that this was an alcohol-free middle school-esque night.

As soon as I had finished emptying my stomach, my friends and I got in a cab and headed home. They hosed me off outside, as I knew my parents would be suspicious if I showed up covered in vomit. As unfortunate as it was, I found it ironic and funny and remember giggling as it happened. I apologised profusely to my friends as they said their goodbyes.

I hadn’t realised it, but I had dropped my keys to my apartment on the pavement as I was throwing up. My phone was dead, it was about 11:30 (an hour past my curfew), and there was no way I was going to get in my house. I gave in, pounding on the door until my parents opened it.

Needless to say, they thought I had been drinking and were far from pleased that I had missed curfew. It wasn’t entirely the sweet 16 I had planned on, but it’s a hell of a story.

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