That Time I Got Drunk & Cuddled With A Shotgun

Majoring in music is a stressful time. The end of every semester is brought forth with a hell far worse than the typical final: juries.

A jury is a final performance by a music student for a panel of jurors, usually consisting of faculty of the institution. Students attend private lessons throughout the year, and they perform at the end of a semester or the year, to illustrate progress before the panel.

The only thing worse than the jury itself is if you find yourself unprepared at some point during the week prior. Fall of 2015 I found myself falling into the category of vastly under prepared with two days left before my jury. The more I practiced the worse I perceived I was getting until eventually I found myself attempting to punch a hole in the wall of the practice room I was in.

So at 11:00pm on a Tuesday night when my best friend found me hitting the wall for the third time in a two hour period he asked what would make me feel better, and my response was getting drunk. Until that night I had never truly experienced what it meant to be “white girl wasted” and thankfully it has only happened a handful of times since. We got to his apartment at 11:50 after a stop at mine to steal a bottle of MadDog from my roommate. At 12:00am the bottle was empty. I was the only one drinking. At 12:30 I was laying on the kitchen floor while him and his roommate were handing me a measuring cup filled with water (the only clean cup in there apartment at the time) and trying their hardest to get me to drink.

At 1:00 I insisted I needed to sleep on the floor in the doorway between the bathroom and my best friend’s bedroom. The only problem was, being a good southern boy my best friend leaves his shotgun loaded and leaning against the wall between his bathroom and his closet. And I was laying/flailing on the floor right beside it. While his roommate was in a panic between not wanting to touch the gun (he doesn’t do guns) and not wanting me to accidentally shoot myself. Eventually between the two of them (and a little bit more force than I am proud to admit was necessary) I ended up on the couch (with my measuring cup of water). Moral of the story, if you are going to get irresponsibly trashed do it with responsible people. But hey, at least I ended up passing my jury.


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