The night began a little tipsy in New York Penn Station and ended with a misdemeanor 55 miles south in Trenton, New Jersey. The allure of NYC had drawn my cousin, Rihanna and I to one of the hottest gay clubs in midtown – BPM. Being under 21 our only problem was finding alcohol and not getting caught. We ended up giving a homeless man twenty bucks to buy four 16 ounce bottles of Strawberitas and a small handle of vodka. Naturally, something felt very illegal about what we were doing, but there’s just something about Manhattan that makes you feel dangerously invincible. It probably didn’t help that we were also chugging bottles as fast as we could in the subway station. We got to the club, checked in our coats, and ran into a few friends. Around midnight was my last concrete memory…
According to my cousin, the club was absolutely “poppin.” She had never been to a gay club either, so all the drag queens, go-go dancers and Gaga remixes were new to her too. She ended up twerking on a table, and I was messing with this guy I barely knew. The bouncers, clearly aware of my inability to handle such fabulousness, kicked us out then escorted us in the right direction. Hopefully it was only because I passed out on a couch by the dance floor. On the subway back to 34th street I apparently thought everyone was sexy and I made it my JOB to let him or her know. Once the bouncer left us at the train station, Rihanna said I ran away from her. Not the normal, I’m-late-for something kind of running, but full out track and field kind of sprinting.
At around 4 a.m., I officially went missing. Rihanna had to contact the Penn Station security department. My cousin and a small group of security guards found me passed out next to a few homeless people. When they woke me up I thought it perfectly appropriate to wip it out and pee, right in the middle of penn station. My cousin said I almost made it, with the puddle being only 50 feet away from the bathroom. Luckily, I was only charged with public indecency for public urination because I was fondling myself infront of the cops. Somehow my 5’2 cousin managed to get me on the train. One would have assumed the nightmare would be over. When the train pulled into New Brunswick, I was still so drunk that I fought my cousin to stay on the train. We both passed out until the train made its full course into Trenton.
In Trenton I snapped out of the heathen I’d become, and my conscious brain turned back on. At 7 a.m., still drunk, we jumped on the next northbound train only to realize it was an express train headed to Newark Penn Station. After almost another hour we were finally got on the right train, and ended up back home in New Brunswick at 9 a.m.
Although I’ll never be allowed back into BPM and have to pay a large fine, it was a huge learning experience. I learned I have a low tolerance for alcohol, and water saves lives! Plus we all need some stories to tell our grand kids. My court date is March 20th.
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