Drunk

A pool with built-in bars is amazing but dangerous. I can swim right up, order a round, and have it charged to my room, you say? Party on!

This is how we were all trashed Monday night. When people keep buying you margaritas because they’re drunk, too, and you all think each other is cool, you don’t refuse or realize how much you’re drinking until you’re telling your friends you can’t go to the room yet because you need to lie down first, but they can’t go back anyway because another friend is across the pool recovering on a pool chair, too.

I don’t remember when we split up or why. I remember Meri and I were alone in the pool with margaritas. I was drunkenly rambling to her and she was drunkenly responding. We swam over to the bar to join what I think was the rest of our group. They’d made new friends. More drinks were had. Meri danced on the bar using lots of jazz hands. Note on that Mexico lawlessness I keep joking about: no one stopped her. Meri and Emily went to go to the bathroom and took a long time coming back, and just as we figured we’d give them five more minutes before going to find them, Meri came back as I was lying down to tell us Emily couldn’t get up. Which meant I had to.

For a little while, she just lied there. Erio offered to carry her but she insisted she could walk, and she could. She was pretty much fine until the shuttle stopped at the lobby. Then she started to lean over and I said, “We should probably get her off this shuttle.”

She went to the grass, did lots of dry-heaving as she yelled our building number and Spanish, and tourists getting ready to go out I’m guessing just kind of watched. And Emily has bright pink hair, so they were bound to remember her.

We got her on another shuttle and made it back okay until she flung open the door, terrified a maid, and someone kept apologizing to her in Spanish. Emily ran down the halls pounding on doors as we chased after her to try to get her to stop.

In our room, she sat by the toilet. I took her water. Somehow, Marion a little later ended up being her caretake, ultimately getting her to take a shower. Sort of. We heard it all from the other side of the door as Emily cried and begged Marion to leave her alone and go have fun without her. She kept on crying when she came out and Skyped Joel, asking if he still loved her since she was so drunk. It was simultaneously the cutest and saddest thing ever.

My room was up late that night, and Marion made herself throw up just to feel better. It triggered Emily in the other room. As gross as it was, it was also funny.

This was our second night in Mexico. Emily had to take a midterm the next day.

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