So the Purple Turtle has basically become a bi/tri-weekly ritual at this point. I have come to the realization that I am leaving Oxford in only one week. I am so sad because it has really become a second home. The people, the atmosphere, really everything is something I’m going to have hardcore withdrawls from. This weeks PT adventure went awry relatively quickly. We had a field trip to Portsmouth at 9:30 AM the following morning so we decided it would be a good idea to head to bed around 2:00 AM at the latest. There was NOT going to be any of that “closing down the club” business happening this time.
We have also gotten much smarter. There is this store called Tesco that we literally go to nearly everyday. It would probably be like the US equivalent of Aldi. Super cheap and they have EVERYTHING. The street artist Banksy even did a graffiti piece in honor of good ole Tesco. We went there around 8:00 to grab some pre-game drinks to drink back in our dorms. It was really fun. Nearly everyone decided to participate so we all bonded over playing Categories and reminiscing over our time so far at Oxford. We had to drink out of coffee cups from the dining hall because that was all we had. It got to be about ten and us girls decided to slap on some makeup and change out of our sweats. We did that- rather quickly I may say. Before I left to England I was hanging out with my wonderful Aunt. I was complaining to her about how difficult it was to pack for such a long trip. She made me name off the clothes I had packed so far and told me a few things I should probably take out. (I did have four dresses packed at the time.) “I guess I can take out the leather pants too,” I said with a laugh. “Nope. You NEED to keep the leather pants. Every woman needs a pair,” she replied seriously. So I packed the leather pants. I shook my head and laughed while getting ready because I found the leather pants on the bottom of my shelf under the majority of my clothes… Why not? So I put them on and drank another cider. By 11:00 we were all feeling pretty good and walked the few blocks down to the PT.
We danced for a few hours and I was having a great time. There were a few people who came with us that I couldn’t say the same about. One guy in our group was literally worried sick because one of the girls kept running off. We found her grinding on some dude in the front of the dance pit; we found her trying to convince the DJ to play “her song”, and then we found her trying to leave the club with some sketchy looking fellow. She was so out of control it became ridiculous. None of us were having fun because we had to practically be her body guard while she continued to try to run off to her next disastrous decision. There she was buying another double; there she was laying on the bathroom floor. It was such a mess. Eventually some of the girls decided to walk home.
I stayed and went up to the bar for a drink. Some cool British guys bought me and some of my friends drinks and we talked to them for a while about studying abroad and the places we had traveled to so far. One guy, I think his name was Charles, said his mother was actually from the States! So he has a second home in Georgia. I was semi-skeptical about that but he showed me a few pictures of his “second home” when he sensed my skeptic attitude. Soon however, I saw out of the corner of my eye the out-of-control girl escaping the club once again. We had to chase after her to make sure she didn’t get hit by a car or something. Us remaining students made the executive decision she needed to leave. We dragged her down the street back to our hall. She tried to get into every club we passed on the way home which was really getting on my nerves. We were nearly home when she decided to climb a statue and refused to get down. I had completely had it. It started to rain and I was NOT enjoying myself anymore. Maybe it was selfish but I walked home by myself. I left her with the remaining four Oxford kids who were begging her to get off the statue before a cop drove by. In the morning I found out that she did get off the statue but then decided to try to climb a bush. She also swore at everyone and slammed all the doors she could get to on the way back into our hall. Needless to say, she was much too hungover to attend our field trip to Portsmouth.
I understand that people can make bad decisions when they’re drunk but I’m really concerned that a twenty-two year old girl still doesn’t know her limits. If this had happened one time I would be able to brush it off. However, this girl turns into this crazed, immature, rude creature every single time she drinks. I’m sensing a pattern and believe that she should perhaps stop drinking. RANT OVER.