Open Thread: The Stupidest Thing You’ve Ever Done?

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  1. MichelleG says:

    Trigger warning ;)

    Here’s my cautionary tale:

    A long time ago, a best friend of mine all of a sudden got interested in raves…(she used to be a good girl, religious and all). At the time, I didn’t know what it was, and didn’t know we were going to one until I got there…it was my first rave, at a very popular club, apparently. I went with my best friend and her boyfriend (I think he was a drug dealer) along with some other friends whom I had never met before.

    I didn’t know what to do once I got there, I ended up being a coat-rack, holding everybody’s coats and purses. The music was crazy, people were dancing crazy…it was noisy and dark; it was very foreign to me, and since I was there, I felt stuck there. Was I a party-pooper?

    I had no idea that raves were where people danced and did drugs. I’ve never been exposed to drugs. Then at some point, my friend’s boyfriend gave something to her and then offered me the same thing. He gave me some pill and told me to take it with water. I assumed everything was safe because my friend was doing it too.

    It was after that night that I realized I had taken an ecstasy pill (I think I took half)…I searched it up on the Internet, that’s how I found out. So, that explains why I was high and dancing like a devil until the wee hours of the morning! I felt like I had so much energy, and you get this warm and fuzzy feeling which makes you think that everyone at the club is your friend and family.

    Then the following week, my best friend invited me out again…I had thought, why not; it was actually fun the first time right? So I ended up again taking half a pill…but then instead of feeling good like the first week…something was happening to me; something strange and not right. Then I started panicking, I felt dizzy and possessed…something was happening to my body and…my mind. I couldn’t stay in control of my body or mind…this could not have been the same drug? I went crazy in the club…I was screaming, panicking and had extreme paranoia. I felt my legs going numb…and my body…I couldn’t feel my lower extremities…I kept on moving around the club and dancing — to get sensation into my legs, body and arms. I didn’t want to go numb and die! And the scariest feeling I ever felt in my life, was the feeling I was dying…I felt like my soul was being sucked out of my body…starting at my my feet, to my legs, then my torso, arms, hands, fingers and out through my head. I tried with all my willpower not to let me die, not to let my brain go numb and have my soul sucked out of me. Like a vacuum sucking smoke; the smoke being your soul — now imagine it trying to suck and pull your soul/life out of the top of your head and leaving behind a vacant body…I could feel its power. (That was a fcking scary experience. Was I blacking out?). It wasn’t even a numbness I felt, because numbness you can feel…I just felt like no weight in my legs and up and up and my soul was being pulled through my body…and last part was going to be out of my mind/brain. I was losing consciousness…that must be it. But how do I know if would have lived to tell this? I had no doubt I was dying.

    There were flashing lights in the club, which danced and zoomed and bounced here and there and made me go even more insane…and the music was pumping rave techno — my heart felt like it was going into cardiac arrest. My eyes darted everywhere…I was screaming for help…my mouth was dried and I kept drinking water, my friend kept offering me water and trying to lead me into the bathroom or to go home. I was paranoid that she and the people she came with, wanted to kill me — I refused to be led away. I accused her of trying to kill me. And then one of the guys she came with, was trying to hold me up, because I was slumping…but he ended up fondling me at the club for everyone to see.

    I wanted to live, thoughts went through my head like…what if i died and the newspaper reported this event and made me out to be this party girl who brought this upon herself? What if my parents never knew the truth (that was only my second time)? or that my friend set me up to kill me….what if the cops and club owners tried to cover things up? BTW my friend and her BF didn’t have to wait in line, they were ushered into the club upon arriving…maybe the drug dealing had to do with that. Someone’s got to sell them to the girls and guys at the club, right?

    At one point, I managed to find someone who looked like a club staff/attendant and I told him I needed to go to the hospital. I think he just laughed at me, and told me I’ll be okay. But I was DYING!!! I can’t believe no one wanted to help me…I didn’t want to be found dead; it would be embarrassing to die this way! I guess I was acting up very badly, that’s when I started seeing people forming a circle around me and their backs to me; so I thought, this is how girls who are going to die get treated — they want to hide you from other clubbers — I was an embarrassment. They needed to shield people away from me! Then I swear, I was freaking out more, because I saw someone coming with a body bag!!! I broke free from that circle and stumbled away.

    Somehow I made it through until morning…like 7am when the club’s music ended and people were ushered out. I saw the stream of light coming from the exit doors…and I think the lights in the club came back on… the darkness and abyss of the night dissipated. Someone came up to me, some old man and he took me into some room, emergency room, to see if I was okay…I think he was a nurse (why didn’t he help me earlier???). My “friend” and some of her cohorts followed (but her bf was missing). The nurse asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital…I told him yes. (This is late in asking isn’t it???) But then my friend told him that they wanted to take me home. The dumb nurse had said that I should have trusted them. Once I was outside of the club, in broad daylight and breathing in oxygen — I felt alive, less anxious, yet still shaken up and had lingering paranoia. Maybe this paranoia had kept me alive?

    There’s much more to this story…but I could go on and on. Anyways, I believe the pill was laced. And there was somewhat of a falling out with that ex-best friend during the week, prior to that night. To this day, I still feel that she and her BF had tried to kill me, by setting me up with the drug. And since I took it on my own accord, that would have waived them of any liability and make it look like it was entirely my fault…that I couldn’t handle it. I have severed ties with her since that nightmarish night.

    Ever since that incident, I have developed panic attacks, anxiety and claustrophobia; HOWEVER, these only surface when my surroundings remind me of that night…such as at a club, or driving on a dark road on a rainy night by myself. I don’t have PSTD from this.

    Let’s see if there are any morals to this story:

    - think before you act (she had been my long-time best friend, so I got used to be being spontaneous around her and game with her ideas. We always did everything together.)
    - ask lots of questions, even if they’re your close “friend”
    - it’s okay to turn around and go home or leave, if you feel uncomfortable; don’t feel as if you have to
    look “extroverted” or be a “good sport” about it; don’t give in to peer pressure
    - never take drugs! the stuff is bad for you, it could be laced and individuals react differently!
    - best friends do not always do what’s in your best interests…their interest often comes first. So make sure to look out for yourself first!
    - make sure your family or someone else knows where you’re going and with whom (even as adults this is a safe policy!)
    - feel free to contribute to this list ;)

    • HeatherN says:

      Stories like this make me so angry (not at you, Michelle) but at our drug laws. If we legalized them and regulated them then this sort of thing wouldn’t happen as often.

      Thank you for sharing your story.

      • MichelleG says:

        Even after that, I don’t think drugs should be legalized. They need to ban raves. If there are no rave nightclubs to support ecstasy and weed…that would remove a huge chunk of who drug dealers target. Rave club owners/attendants support these drug dealers. And they don’t f*ckin care if girls and others die…they did not come to help me. The club doesn’t want to draw police and emergency vehicles to their establishments or the media…they don’t want to stop the music and dancing (and the money coming in)…they don’t want to stop it on your behalf, this isn’t good for their business — they’d rather you DIE first and carry you out later in a body bag…making less of a scene.

        There were hundreds of people there, and nobody there gave a f*ck about me, not even that male nurse on staff…not the employees there, not the clubbers. They’ve probably seen all of this before and all knew the “procedure”; they collude with the club. It’s like Las Vegas…what happens there, stays there. There should be video surveillance cameras at these clubs.

        People who do drugs too long, you can tell it from their eyes and face — their eyes are glassy and their face becomes a stare/mask; almost vacant, expressionless.

  2. HeatherN says:

    Thing I did: Mixed my drinks last night – cider, Malibu and vodka

    How it turned out: I’ll get back to you.

    • MichelleG says:

      How was the drink? I would substitute the cider for pineapple.

      • HeatherN says:

        lol oh goodness no I didn’t add Malibu and vodka into cider. That’d kill me. I had a couple ciders, then a Malibu and coke…then a vodka and coke…and then another cider.

        And I’m actually not really hung over…not properly anyway. So turns out it actually wasn’t that bad of a decision. lol.

  3. Noah Brand says:

    When I was a lad, Berkeley still had the UC Theater, this amazing movie palace that played a different double feature every day. All kinds of films, too. Hong Kong Tuesdays was a regular feature for a long time, which was how I learned to love Jet Li. Lots of art films, classics, independent movies that couldn’t get a big distributor, film festivals, everything. Also real butter on the popcorn.

    Anyway, after I left my first high school under unfortunate circumstances, my mother suggested that instead of going back to high school, I take the next year off, on condition that every day, I go to the UC Theater and watch both features, no matter what was playing. That would be my education.

    To the rage and bafflement of my adult self, as a teenager I turned this proposition down. Partly because I found the prospect of watching French art movies a bit off-putting, but mainly because I was a teenager and actually thought high school was important. Stupid damn kid…

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