I was 20 years old and had just abandoned my Mormon roots. I was living in Salt Lake City, Utah and planning a trip to New York City to visit my friend Chloe from high school. I hadn't seen her in years and it was time for a trip anyways. Utah had me all pent up. All those Mormons and squeaky-clean white boys everywhere had me itchin' for some REAL action!

Off I went on my trip. At the time my friend Chloe was attending NYU and living on St. Marks Place in a small yet expensive apartment. Having nowhere else to stay, I stayed with her and slept on the floor underneath her loft bed.

The days went by and I ate a lot of San Loco (super cheap Mexican food), attended various shows, met bands and all the typical things a young girl does in the big city. Before I knew it, it was my last night in New York.

Now Chloe was really savoring the fact that I had fallen off the Mormon bandwagon. She was just dying to get me drunk. The whole thing was a little odd since she was one of my few straight (as in, didn't drink) friends in high school. She convinced me to go to this bar called The Pit or The Pitstop or something. It was on Third Avenue, pretty close to her apartment. I think her friends' band Angelrot was playing. After they were done, she took a tab out on the bar. Bad idea. We started doing kamikaze shots. A LOT of them. A lot of them considering the fact that I wasn't a drinker in the first place! To this day I don't know how many I had. I think six. I also think they were double-shots. But hey, I was having a good time! I wasn't SUPPOSED to be doing this!

Next thing I knew, I was in this little room all by myself. I was sitting in a chair sandwiched between two video games. I was feeling pretty bad. Make that REALLY bad. I rested my head against the wall, not having a CLUE what was going on. Somewhere off in the distance I heard someone say, "Hey, are you all right?" I ignored it. Suddenly there was this stuff pouring out of my mouth, all over my cool suede boots! Oh my god, it's PUKE!! Puke on the floor, puke on my boots, puke on the wall, puke everywhere! Yum!!

Chloe appeared out of nowhere with her friend John to rescue me. They each grabbed an arm and dragged me back to her place. THAT must have been a fuckin' sight, me with my green hair and all. Like people didn't stare at me enough as it was (yes, even in New York, though you wouldn't think so). We got to her house and they started FLOODING me with water. "Water will make you FEEL better," they kept telling me. I was skeptical. I wasn't feeling any better and I still had lots of booze left in me. Plus I had to catch a flight in the morning.

I fell asleep and when I woke up it seemed as though I had been asleep only moments. Yep, still drunk. Chloe said, "We've GOT to get some food in you--then you'll feel better!" She dragged me to Kiev and fed me runny eggs. They were bad. As soon as we got back to her place, I puked 'em up. I puked up other stuff too. I puked for 10 minutes straight. All the stuff I'd eaten in the past three days, I puked up. Pretty soon Chloe was knocking on the bathroom door. "C'mon! You've got to get to the airport!" Fortunately I was all puked out. I grabbed my bags and jumped in a cab, just feelin' spent. I had a great trip home.