Bad decisions

I know there are times that everybody makes bad decisions, but then sometimes people just decide like a week in advance to make a bad decision.

We've all been there before. Standing around talking to our friends when it hits like a slap in the face. You look at your friends and say, "Next Friday, I'm going to make a decision I'll probably regret. There, it's settled."

I'm not saying I've been making bad decisions lately, it just came up in conversation. Talking about past decisions and some that I should have run 100 miles the opposite direction, but didn't. Good news is, I'm doing okay, but the bad news is some of those decisions are still around.

One decision in particular was drinking before a night at the club when I was still in Duluth. It was early in my illustrious two semesters at the University of MN, Duluth. I said it was time to get drunk... Great plans always start this way when you're 19. That's a promise.

Well, it just so happened I was the only person who knew where we were going. Good thing my sense of direction is on point when I've been drinking. We end up at the club, amazingly enough.

Somehow I stumbled past the door guy who put on my underage bracelet. I can't remember if he was laughing at me or not. Not important. I'm doing good though, paying my entrance fee, which some call a cover charge. I think it is an entrance fee to act like a fool. Whatever...

I can remember the black lights highlighting how I always dump my laundry detergent on top of my clothes instead of putting it in before the clothes. That's awesome. There's nothing like a big white glow in the dark stain on your jeans that happens to be the same place as specific human anatomy. (I still don't put the detergent in before my clothes and fell victim to the same embarrassment recently.)

As soon as I got past the doors into the actual dance floor part of the club my world fell apart. I lost track of all time, motor skills (which I blame on the lights) and the ability to just exist amongst the crowd.

I figure the best place to hide is the bathroom. I barely make it in there, knowing I'm being watched by everybody who has some authority to escort the too drunk to function people out. I'm in the bathroom for what seems to be ages. This was probably only a mere 30 seconds, but who's counting. I couldn't have counted to 10 at this point. I come out of the bathroom, right to the guy who says it is time to leave.

I'm surprisingly okay with this. No argument or anything. I'm actually happy I get to leave. Saves me from falling all over the place.

First, I tell them to page my cousin, he's in there. Hopefully, he will come outside just to make sure nothing happens. As you can guess the classic excuse comes out of his mouth the next day, "I didn't hear them call my name over the loudspeakers when they stopped the music and clearly stated I was needed outside." A big thanks goes out to him...

So, here I am, 19, crumpled and drunken on the sidewalk. I asked numerous times to page said cousin. Nothing. I pass out, or black out. Take your pick.

The next thing I remember is being picked up by friends from the sidewalk, and one of them is crying. She's balling her eyes out, and I'm saying, "Why are you crying? Seems silly you'd cry because I got kicked out."

She says to look at my hands, and as I look down I see something fall from my face. Red, thick consistency similar to blood, weird. I see my hands and they're covered in blood. My first instinct is to think it belongs to somebody else. WRONG!

Congrats, Cody, you got your ass whipped and you don't even remember it. Classy.

Not a whole lot of remembering after that. I guess I was hilarious at the hospital. My friends were nice enough to take me. (Still no sign of immediate family.) One of the things I do remember was the doctor "testing" my threshold for pain. My nose was broken and my teeth hurt like hell, but that didn't stop him from pushing and pulling on both.

By the way, even through all of this I am told I gave them all my information including driver's license number without ever taking my wallet out of my back pocket. Don't ask. I was too drunk to get dressed by myself. Thanks to a friend, he got me dressed and back to my room. (Found said family member, asleep in bed.)

I woke up the next morning, in time to go to my 9:15 class. Wouldn't you know it, somebody saw what happened. I wore a hat, and kept my head down to hide the mess I called a face.

I guess, some large Native American fellow took offense to something I must have said. He used the cast for his broken hand to readjust my nose, teeth and some of my jaw structure. Then he proceeded to rummage through my pockets, taking the last dollar I had on me. Somehow this story gets better and better.

At least I know that's why it looks like somebody used a cheese grater on my face.

That's my story of the bad decisions. I decided I was going to get drunk, and indeed I did. Luckily, I didn't get hurt beyond repair. I was doing some Marine Corps Martial Arts Program training, got popped in the nose and it is straight again.

I guess what I'm getting at in all of this is, take heed when making decisions in haste. It can get messy. Oh, and make sure you're with friends who will a) bail you out b) come find you or c) take you to hospital and dress you because you can't do it yourself.