I Didn’t Know I Was Lost

At moments like these, I wonder what the hell I’m doing.

What possessed me, a bookish introvert, to go clubbing in Milan? It’s not that I come to regret these decisions, but I still can’t help but marvel at the trickery of my brain.

We filled two tour buses. I myself was filled with rum, vodka, wine, and something else mixed with grapefruit juice. All considered, being told that I looked too serious was affirmation enough that this isn’t my regular thing. Fortunately, the smile I held for the rest of the night was quite real.

Near the front of the bus, I could look out to the blurred highway lights and turn to see the aisle jammed with hip shakers and arm wavers. It was then, as Avicii’s Wake Me Up blared on the stereo, that I realized this was as good an anthem for this trip as I was like to hear. 

You see, we are wanderers: old enough to exact our freedoms, but too young to bear significant responsibilities. Like in the club, we move along the currents of people, merging into one pool or another when something interests us. Yet, nothing holds us back from exploration, liberal conversation, and the pursuit of selfish desires.

We are young, care-free, and bold. Young especially. I’ve never felt that so much as now. Perhaps it is that freedom which bears uncertainty. A fair thing to trade for the ability to hold so much liquor, I’d say.

The following day, we held a pool party and beach volleyball tournament. It seemed to me a recreation of some high-class American affair: loud music, beautiful people, and a warm sun. The Italian coordinators displayed their ripped bodies and dominated on the volleyball court. French brunettes sat along one edge of the pool, sunbathing. A Miss Teen Undisclosed-USA-State 2012 sat amongst a possy, and as would be expected, was thrown into the pool. Mexicans and Englishmen sat under the shade, and further groups intermingled and scattered around the swimming area. What a fantastical memory! What a great age to be alive!