What? I have connections? Damn them!

Yes. It's true. Rather than refusing to go out, succumbing to my friends' demands, throwing on "bar clothes" and heavy whore paint, and then smiling at the bouncer who knows that the ID I have presented to him is not me, as I stand an entire eight inches taller than my California driver's license says, (whew, try to remember where I started with the beginning of this sentence) I flexed my connections last night. Instead of dragging my heels and following, I led.
Actually, I was excited for a night in with my couch and some movies, but they talked me into going to our beloved college bar. But then I thought, "Why not call Danny?" Who is this "Danny" person I speak of? Well, for you to know that we must go way back (to Sunday night). I was out with some Chicago Fire players, and this caused the bouncers to think that because I was with them, I was important, so one of them handed me his card. I told him he looked familiar and asked if he worked anywhere else (you know, because I go to so many clubs; I'm such a club person) and he said, "Le Passage."
Now, Le Passage is in prime Gold Coast location, right by Tavern on Rush, Level, Hugos, etc. It's kind of a big deal; people wait in lines for lengths of time I would deem unacceptable when it's cold outside, cover is $20, and drinks start at $12.
I was feeling a little ballsy, so I texted Danny, and one thing led to another and me and seven of my friends walked into the club without showing IDs, or paying the cover, and went in the back door to avoid the line. We walked downstairs and he took us to the velvet-roped off VIP section, where we took the corner booth by the dance floor. Kettle One bottle service (Kate, Em, this is when you order an entire bottle and they just leave it on your table with a bajillion mixers) was on special that night, so my friend George decided to buy one.
We went through a bottle and started to dance. Forever. And there may have been a pedestal, and I may have been dancing on it all night- but Adriana was on the other one! So we were drinking, dancing, VIP'ing, sitting, singing and loving life, when Danny says, "Are you leaving?" "Why? Is anything good happening soon?" "I'm having a new DJ come in 10 minutes." "Ok, we'll stay for a bit." About twenty minutes later, Danny sent over another bottle of Kettle One on the house. I thought that maybe I wouldn't think this was totally cool when I was sober, but no- getting a $200 bottle service for free is really damn cool.
So cut to the chase- eight people, two bottles of vodka, (and a few drinks before we left home) and hours upon hours of dancing- literal non-stop dancing in 3-inch heels- made for a good night, and promised a shitty recovery.

Fast forward to this morning:

I woke up at 10am (my alarm was set for 10:40) because my room had turned into an oven. I stepped out of bed, and almost collapsed- my quads were on fire; they haven't been this sore since I went to volleyball camp after ninth grade and had a day called "Hell Day," where we trained so friggin' hard for 75 minutes we were in tears, and actually couldn't sit down to pee the next day. I was also still a wee bit drunk, but went to class.
I was sitting on the bus, pleading with the universe to ward off the vomit; I'm pretty sure that the drunkenness morphed into a full-blown hangover in the 20 minutes I was on the shuttle. I got to class, in which I was expected to follow along and contribute to a conversation in French about French politics. (I know, insert jokes here). I listened for ten minutes, but as I lack the ability to focus on anything academically stimulating for longer than 10 minutes, I began to stare out the window. Right as I became completely detached from the happenings of my classroom, the following conversation between my professor and I ensued, in French:

"Allison, what do you think?"
"I don't know." (I said this in a way that I thought sounded final, like, "Don't pursue this!"
"Do you think we are uninformed or over-informed when it comes to politics and world issues?"
"I think that we... Americans don't like... the French love to debate politics... but we don't because when we have different opinions we consider arguments... confrontational." Is this a real answer to that question? I think not.

At this point, she saw that I was completely red, visibly shaking, and heard the rattling coming from my lungs because I had forgotten to breath during the entire 90 seconds it took me to formulate that horrific sentence, so she moved on to another student.

After class, I was standing in the queue for the shuttle in 6 degree weather, and my mind got to wandering about the following things:

- A lot of people in Chicago put sweaters on their dogs. I shall put a sweater on my cat. And paint its nails. And name it something like Mrs. Whiskerson, Fluffy, or PooPoo.
- Am I above sitting down on the dirty sidewalk in front of 60 of my schoolmates? No, probably not, but if I sit down, I will have to stand up and I just don't think my legs have got it in them.
- Who the hell does this girl in front of me think she is, flaunting her Coach boots (which beg for attention) and not doing anything with her hair? Seriously, $400 boots and a ratty ponytail?
- I'm pretty sure giant-dreads-guy was behind me earlier, so who is this I-think-I'm-European, but really from the suburbs guy?
- I need to learn how to go out on Thursdays and still be a real human being the next day. It is rude and impolite to be dead to the world, while out in it. The only correct way to be dead to the world is to do so by burrowing into your bed.
- Bed. Jumping on bed. Jello. Man, I want some Sprite!
- Ow! I think the vodka caused my gums to errode. When I poke my gums with my tongue, it hurts really bad. Ow! Ow! Ow! Stop! I can't. Ow!
- I want to jump into Lake Michigan.
- I really want to sit down. Would the salt on the sidewalk get on my pants? Does it taste like salt? I hate pepper. I want salt and vinegar chips. I miss Victoria. Is she coming back to camp? Shit. Camp. What's going on?
- I want to swallow ice cubes right now. I think that would feel glorious in my stomach.

Peace, love, and ponies.

"I'm dead to the world."
- Me, Sara, NItal, and George, all at different times of the day.