WHERE IS THAT SCHOOL GIRL WHO USED TO BE ME?

When I was nineteen, around the last quarter of my freshman year of college, my roommate and I decided to go to Las Vegas. We booked last minute tickets on Spirit Airlines, packed actual sleeping bags, and drove to the airport. And has anyone ever been so young?

Did you know on Spirit Airlines you have to pay to breathe? That’s a lie. But they ACTUALLY fly the O.G. Spirit of St. Louis. Also a lie. However, you wouldn’t know the difference if you were on that flight with us. Spirit Airlines is the worst airline with horrible service, rude staff, outrageous waits, and a fee for every, single thing to compensate for the fact that your cheap ass thought you were getting a good deal.

I remember stuffing my Marmot sleeping bag underneath the seat in front of me and shelling out cash to do so. We had no clue what we were in for.

Serendipitously, my cousin (who was extremely wealthy and equally reckless at the time) was in Las Vegas, too. He shelled out hundreds so my roommate and I could have a junior suite at some fancy hotel I don’t remember the name of now (yes, its been that long). The weekend was wild, under the wing of my much older cousin who introduced us to an underbelly of Vegas society that had always been a secret to us, but a playground to everyone else. We got away with drinking while playing slots and it was all too intense for my small town, teenage self. My Marmot sleeping bag sat unused in a corner of the hotel room, and I rolled my eyes every time I looked at it, remembering the money I had wasted bringing it.

I remember being exhausted. The flight back to Oregon was spent asleep, completely ignorant of what little leg room there was on Spirit Airlines. We didn’t care. We were young and had the craziest experience of our lives. Back in the dorms, the college life that had once seemed so fast, slowed to a dull roll and the last month of freshman year went by at a glacial pace.

I miss being exhausted. I miss the feeling of doing something on a whim. Adulthood makes everything seem difficult. Death and depression and parents getting older and I think back to booking those tickets and it seems like a lifetime ago.

I need change.

I haven’t been writing a lot, but I do have a lot to say.

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