This is the time of my youth and I plan to live it up to the fullest. Everyday, I give thanks to the universe for giving me the greatest friends ever to accompany on this convoluted journey called life. It is with great pain that I tell them ‘goodbye’ at the end of winter and summer breaks but whenever I leave Jamaica, it is always with a heart and mind filled with memories of our stupid adventures. And so our story begins…
Like all good stories, this one begins with way too much alcohol. There were about 11 of us seated in the living room of C’s house. We formed a circle around a circle of cards laid face down with a rather large cup forming the bull’s eye. King Cup was the name of the game and the objective was to get everyone a little more than tipsy. The rules are simple. We go around the circle in a systematic order and each person flips a card. Each card required the group or individuals to complete a task. For instance for seven, you stretch your hands to the heavens and the last one to complete the task has to take a sip of their drink. Why is there a big cup in the center of the circle? Well, everytime a King is flipped, every player has to pour some of their drink into the King Cup. When the last King is flipped, some sad soul has to down the contents of the cup!
Before I continue the story, I must point out some key elements.
- We were in the safety of my friend’s house
- We ate lots of pizza before the games began
- We are a close knit group despite our large number
- We’ve known each other for at least 5 years
- We are all of drinking age
- We all had to put our phones away so the whole world wouldn’t know our activities #StopDrunkTexting2015
- H wasn’t drinking since he had to drive home
- Her parents were tucked away in their room should an emergency arise
The point I’m trying to get across is we drink responsibly. Back to the story!
Well, 52 cards later we were all… in a state. Poor D had gotten the King Cup and she drank it like a champion. One thing led to another and N whipped out a condom and threw it at a couple in the corner. Well, I’m sure they were the target but his aim wasn’t the best at the moment. We all laughed and started jamming out to a playlist of Reggae, Dancehall and Soca. It was some point after this that H had to leave so we hugged and said our goodbyes.
The dancing, sweating and drinking water helped us sober up a bit. We talked about life and planned our next outing and somehow the topic of condoms arose. The condom!!! It was like everyone remembered N threw the condom at exactly the same instance but no one could remember where he threw it or where it landed or most importantly where it was at that very moment.
Imagine 10 more-than-tipsy-but-less-than-drunk people searching for one condom in a living room. It was like the bloody thing grew legs and walked away. We concluded that since we couldn’t find the condom… maybe her parents wouldn’t either. Sound reasoning right? Don’t judge we were under the affluence of incahol. We then
went to bed knocked out at around 5am.
In the morning – well later in the morning when we woke up- we were sober enough to be reunited with our phones. We had all received a message from H saying:
“I’m home and btw, I have the condom”
Definitely a story for the grandkids….on second thought maybe not.