I would just like to start off by saying that the story I’m about to unveil is neither inspirational nor meaningful. There is a lesson to be learned from it, but you most likely aren’t going to feel enlightened because it is common sense. In other words, anyone with a working brain should possess the knowledge not to do this. Everyone should know not to allow their mother to drug them on their birthday. Of course, the mishap was purely accidental, so I don’t hold it against her (for the most part). Still, I will always remember that day and think “I bet events would have gone a lot more smoothly if I was actually fully conscious.”
The incident occurred three years ago. My mom decided to plan something extraordinary in celebration of my sixteenth year of life, and booked a 3-day cruise to the Bahamas. On July 28th – the very special day – at about 2 in the morning, I was aroused from sleep, feeling like sizzling coal was lodged into my throat. I started coughing hysterically, and the room seemed to be tilting forward. I could have sworn that the ship had pulled a Titanic and smashed into an iceberg. My mom, being the extremely light sleeper she is, was awakened by my hacking and proceeded to test my forehead for a fever, which I indeed had. I caught it from my best friend, Stephanie, who luckily tagged along for the momentous occasion, yet unluckily carried the contagious remnants of a week-old sore throat. Since the last thing we wanted was for me to fall ill, my mom gave me a generous portion of medicine in an attempt to promptly exterminate the sickness. I knocked out relatively quick after the dosage, thrust into comatose state. Seriously though – I didn’t even budge to withdraw from the sheets when the ship docked nearly 10 hours later. My mom had to persistently shove my shoulders to bring me back from slumber. Also, you should that, while I slept, Stephanie had thrown several random articles of clothing at me. According to her, I had not stirred except to cuddle a pair of fuzzy socks. Yes, I was that out cold. So just like that, my birthday morning slipped away and, with zero improvement in my condition, the medicine had proven itself useless; well, with respect to my throat, that is.
Once my sluggish feet made it to the ship’s gangway, the three of us descended onto a ferry to the Bahamas. Upon arrival, I was weak to the point that the sand looked positively soft and inviting. I would have shamelessly fallen face-first into it. Fortunately, before that happened, my mom and Stephanie found me a chair – a less problematic surface to collapse onto. Since there was no evident change in terms of my vitality, it became obvious that I was totally incapacitated and would not be engaging in any activities on the beach. Sympathetic to my situation, Mom and Stephanie helped me settle down and kindly kept me company until I nodded out again.
In total, I must have slept for an hour and a half, and it was a decent nap. However, to my dismay, it was the sun’s villainous agenda to roast everyone into shish kebabs that day, and I was protected with neither sunscreen nor shade. As if someone had prodded me with a branding iron, I shot up abruptly, a scream caught in the back of my throat. The entirety of my front body was red and scorching. Screw Katniss Everdeen! Right then, I was the Girl on Fire. To make circumstances worse, I wound up having to wait there since I was too stiff and lethargic to move. Helpless, I simply charred some more under the sun, occasionally checking my limbs for signs of smoking. When Mom and Stephanie finally returned, all they needed was one look at the expression on my face to read my thoughts: Get me off this damn island!
The next obstacle that came to pass is the reason I truly believe that the whole affair was karma getting back at me hard. For what exactly? No idea. Anyway, after everything I underwent that day thus far, all I wanted to do was to retire to my chambers and relax. Despite my wishes, once we boarded the ship, we were informed that getting back up to our 7th-floor suite was going to be no easy task. Why, you ask? The ship lost power. I repeat: THE SHIP LOST ITS POWER! Do you know what that means? It means that there were no functioning elevators, or air conditioners, or lights, or toilets! It also meant that, as the temperature rapidly increased, I – the half-conscious shish kebab with limbs stretched wide like a starfish – had to climb seven flights of stairs to the room; and to put the icing on the cake, I couldn’t even reward myself after the trek by simmering down and rejuvenating in the saltwater pool because that was closed too.
Thankfully, after that fiasco, there were no more surprises, and we were able to rest. The power returned some hours later – after all the ice cream was reduced to sugary puddles, mind you – and I was granted the pleasure of comfortably snoozing in bed with cool air running.
So, that’s my story. Now you know that I spent the majority of my sixteenth birthday sleeping. After hearing this catastrophic tale, I hope all of you carry this moral in your back pocket: Do not allow yourself to be drugged on your birthday. I wish everyone here a lifetime of conscious birthdays, with the possible exception of your 21st.