I have a pair of dorothy shoes. That's not entirely relevent, but I love those shoes, and they've played a large role in my life over the past two or three weeks. I wore them to The Wizard of Oz, a musical that I attended with my friend and sister, I wore them when we filmed some footage for a movie trailer about super secret agents wearing them, I wore them to see a Josh Thomas, and I wore the to my friend's 'colour' themed 18th birthday party. That party is what I actually wanted to talk about, and is the reason that I started writing this.
The scarecrow socks were the rainbow socks that the scarecrow wore at The Wizard of Oz. It turns out that my sister has a pratically identical pair of socks, which were worn to the colour party along with the dorothy shoes. There's no real reason that the scarecrow socks were included in the title, I just liked the poetry of the phrase.
I've had several 18ths this month - there was a tea party, a pirate party, an adventurous competivie party and this colour themed party. As this is the year that my older friends will all turn 18, these weren't the first 18ths I had been to, but the one yesterday was the first one at which there was alcohol freely available.
It was a 'bring your own grog' party, and people did. Unfortunately, most people bought slightly more than they were planning on drinking, figuring that 'others could share them'. That's fine in theory, but when everybody who brings alcohol does that, you end up with an excess.
One of my not-so-close friends ended up drunk very quickly - she bought quite a bit to drink, and she drank it all, rather quickly. Another friend was fairly drunk relatively early on. My best friend was just a little bit tipsy when I got there about an hour and a half later, but she was a bit drunk later. The friend that I've known for the longest was very drunk, although she's not the type of drunk that shows it. The worst was another friend who lost every single one of her inhibitions. The last drunk person (out of my friends, anyway) was the friend who turned up late, and drunk quite a bit in a short period of time to 'catch up' to the others.
My friend's (the birthday girl) sister and brother (both younger than her) were completely drunk too.
I had one drunk - a wildberry vodka cruiser that my friend gave me - as well as the occassional sip of something. The upshot of that was that I ended up as the sober one amoung the drunk friends. I wasn't the only one, there were several others, but we ended up taking drinks of people and trying to make sure they didn't hurt themselves.
At one point, the group of them decided I was the 'drink thief', and the only thing that stopped me being slapped was the fact that the girl sent to slap me 'loved me too much'.
That same girl who was meant to 'slap me' kissed another girl earlier in the night. That other girl then decided that she 'was going to turn gay if she didn't kiss a guy, and the her 'lover' wouldn't lover her anymore'. She didn't actually use the phrase 'lover' there, but it's not worth the explanation otherwise - you get the drift. We ended up trying to stop her making out with the only single, straight male at the party, other than the birthday girl's family. We failed, and we had to steal her phone at the end of the night to delete his number - he was a bit of a creep, and several years older than her.
The point I'm trying to make is that I didn't enjoy the second half of that party. Half my friends were drunk, and the other half of us were trying to make sure they were safe. I ended up quite resentful.
However, today my best friend thanked me for being 'so responsible and mature, and making her feel so safe'. She said that she was happy to drink more because she felt safe. So now I feel conflicted - I didn't like having to take care of them, but I couldn't leave them to let them be drunk. However, if I had left them, they probably would have drunk left.
None of them were even hungover the next day.
Moral of the story: I've decided that I'm probably not going to ever get drunk. I've been the sober one worrying about the drunk ones, and I don't think that I want to a) put somebody else through that, or b) do it without somebody there to look after me.
I've just realised that this has practically nothing to do with either the dorothy shoes or the scarecrow socks, other than the fact that I was wearing both as this occured, but hey, sometimes that happens.
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