It was an innocent weekend away with my friends, we had planned to have a couple of drinks and just have a good time. A few too many drinks and a lot of bad decisions later…

Friday Night:
We were going to the flying fish show. The lights were bright, the stage was set and the people were hyped. The drinks were freely flowing and I found myself missing the times of being fetched by my parents. My friends pull me to the side, shouting at me through the noise of the crowd, full of sweat and mosh pitting the sound of K.O. in the background. My mind was fixed on this party so I ignored every reprimanding word they said until they got the message. We got back to the party, enjoying the rest of the performance, but soon realized that the crowd was thinning. We decided to find a way back to our friend, terror was written all over my face. My friend Aviwe laughed and said: “How many messages have you got on your phone?”

I laughed. “If I come back alive, you owe me a bottle,” I replied sarcastically.

We left to sleep off the alcohol.

Saturday:
Head spinning, Mouth dry and some noise that my friend’s sister was making that was tempting me to put her fingers in a blender, the feeling of waking up the morning after. Luckily there was the sound of her preparing breakfast for us; it tasted like my first meal in ages. Toast gently crunching on my tongue, the egg so perfect it felt like I nurtured the chicken that laid it. Bacon and sausage so juicy that the flavours erupted in my mouth like a volcano that had been dormant for years. I looked like a sausage once I was done but I did not care because my stomach was satisfied.

But then terror struck, my mom was calling. I gathered myself trying to come up with a lie to tell her and after a few seconds I answered. I heard her sigh. That was when I realised that I had put my entire family through a night of torment, but still I had one of the best nights of my life.