GRADUATION = PARTY

My college graduation was scheduled for 8:00am. Awesome. That’s real nice. Some people got an 11:30am graduation; some got a 2:00pm graduation. Not me. I got the one bright and early. The early bird catches the worm… well the early morning graduate catches a hangover.

I didn’t drink very much the night before. I knew that if I were to go out, I’d end up either being extremely tired (to the point that I wouldn’t wake up) or slightly hung over. I opted for neither. At the time, this idea was responsible and slightly genius. Stay at home and hang out with your roommates, or risk missing graduation. Truthfully, I would not have missed missing it. Due to the swine flu epidemic (aka the student government’s giant FAIL) we had no speaker. When my brother graduated, he had General Tommy Franks speak. When I was a freshman, those seniors got the President. G-DUB!!! When I graduated… I got a DVD directed to incoming freshman. Thanks. One of the most important days of my life and you are using it as an advertisement, love you too. However, had I actually missed graduation Mom and Dad would have been less than thrilled.

I felt great during graduation. I was a tad cranky prior due to the early hour, but other than that, I felt awesome. I praised myself for my good health. Then that evening came. The thing about behaving yourself is it only lasts so long. You can be good. But after a period of time, it runs its course and its time to move on. That night was epic. To be honest, I don’t really recall the bars. What I do recall is insisting the party not end and heading to the nearest house where I knew the party would continue. I ended up at a big party house… my dear friends at the corner of 5th and Duck. I had fun. I didn’t go crazy and do things regrettable, but I had fun. However, when the night came to an end, I found myself without a ride. I called my roommates, no answer/even had they answered they’d not been able to drive. I thought of all the under-aged friends I’d made… they weren’t in Stillwater/even had they been in Stillwater they’d not been able to drive. I had the opportunity to hop on a DD ride and they left without me because they were full. The cabs in Stillwater that night? Less than dependable. Next logical choice? Stealing a bike. I had to steal a bike. I spotted one. I ran up to it. I hopped on. I began peddling. And then I heard it… I heard yelling. “Maddie, don’t take my bike…. Maddie, please… stop. Don’t take my bike.” Did I listen? No? I was like the muthaf*ckin honey badger! I wasn’t gonna stop for nobody.”

Next Morning. Slightly hungover. But not bad. All of my roommates were packing up their things and one roommate was straight up moving out. She had rented a U-Haul and was moving all over her belongings where her fiancé lived. By the time I got the call about the bike, it was nearly 1:00pm. I assured the bike’s owner that it was downstairs and I’d bring it over soon. I went downstairs, I packed up my car, I ate lunch, and I went to get the bike…. I went to go get the bike… Where the hell is the bike? I looked in the garage. I looked in the basement. I specifically remember placing the bike my living room and locking the door. Who took it? I asked my roommate if they packed in the U-Haul by mistake. I interrogated my other roommates about the time they returned and if they locked the door behind them. Nothing. There were no clues about what happened to the bike.

I procrastinated. But eventually I had to make the call. I texted my friend and asked for a my other friend’s number, then I texted that friend and asked her what her boyfriend’s number was…. I went by his house (I had partied there before), he wasn’t there… I could only leave a message.

“Um, I know you told me to not take your bike… but I was drunk and I tend not to listen to anyone when I’ve been drinking. However, as sorry as I am about taking your bike… I’m even more sorry about what it is I’m about to tell you…. I can’t find your bike. I specifically remembered bringing it inside with me and locking the door behind me. However, this morning when I woke up, it was no where to be found.”

He called me back. I informed him again of the circumstance. He told me how he’d hope that I didn’t have to pay for the bike because it was so expensive and that he’d just hope it’d turn up.
For nearly two weeks, I just knew I was going to have to shed out about a grand in order to pay this guy back for his bike. While I was on vacation in the Bahamas I received a text:

“Hey Maddie. Good news. The bike showed up down the street from you house in front of some of my frat brothers’ yard.”

My first reaction was excitement. Yay… I don’t have to give this kid money. My second reaction? I’ve been played. What are the odds of an expensive bike ending up in the garbage? Um… none. It immediately dawned on me. He had the bike the entire time. He was simply punishing me for my transgression. He never expected me to pay for the bike; he only wanted me to think I needed to pay for it. I felt horrible for a good 2 weeks and I just knew I was going to have to pay for his bike… boy was I wrong.

The moral of this story is don’t borrow things without asking. You never know when it will come back and bite you in the ass.