The Thanksgiving Tragedy

As I am sure you know, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving is the biggest bar night of the year. I have never partaken in this tradition but, of course, I am all about trying new things this year so - I attended. Worst decision ever. The night began with good friends and catching up at a friend's house in Stow. A short taxi ride later and we were in the land of the Valley. It was impossible to get a drink, you couldn't move and no one could smell my Dolce and Gabbana perfume over the smell of Cherry Bombs & Christmas Ale spilling all over my leather jacket. It was my nightmare.

What else was a girl to do but run up to the bar and order multiple shots of Jamison? If you can't get a drink but every 45 minutes, you must consolidate, right? Think smarter not harder!

Wrong.

The night gets blurry from this point on but, what I do know is I woke up with a lost debit card, broken cell phone, vomit on various items of clothing and of course, a lack of dignity. I can say with 100 percent certainty that this was my last trip to Thanksgiving Eve and certainly, my last trip to the Valley until plastic surgery deters people from recognizing the girl who fell on the dance floor. As you can imagine, the next morning (Thanksgiving) was pleasant. The only thing I was thankful for that morning, was the fact that I might have thrown up enough calories the night before to consume them again in Thanksgiving dinner. The two-hour car ride to my Aunt's nearly killed me. With every bend in the road I felt my gag reflex acting up.

I had heard that when a smart phone gets wet, you can attempt to revive it with a bowl of rice to soak up the liquid.

My attempt- riding in the car with me all the way to my Aunt's.

Needless to say, I arrived to the Thanksgiving dinner. Buzzed, disheveled, sans phone, sans dignity.

My Dad cutting Turkey in his Gingerbread outfit (while laughing and trying to feed me wine all day-not funny).