September 2013

There Is No Escape On A Boat

Halloween hasn’t even arrived yet and we have already been on a terrifying ride. Instead of monsters, screams and poison, the room was filled with wasted frats and freshers, deafening techno music and extortionately priced alcohol. But the worse part of this night was the fact that there was no escape. Our room was floating in the middle of St. Lawrence river in Quebec for four very long hours.

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My greatest criticisms lie with the company. It all began at eight o’clock on Saturday night. Rebecca, Oskar, Brayden, Erik and I were sitting on a wall outside university waiting for the shuttle bus to take us to the boat party. The event had been arranged for business students but we somehow managed to swag ourselves tickets. We were excited… were being the operative word. Clad in ill-fitting dresses, mismatched shirts and uncomfortable looking shoes, the students arrived stumbling and jeering and flirting all over the place. Not to sound like a snob but it was clear these were new nineteen-year-olds who had never drank or been to a real club before. I felt like I was back in high school and not in a good way.

Chaperones guided us on to the bus after checking ID’s, bags and pockets. No alcohol allowed on board the yellow school bus. Not in bottles at least, I would say there was enough alcohol collectively inside the bodies of all the students to kill a large bear. Couples were making out on the back seats, arrogant frat boys belittled and mocked those around, and drunken girls squealed about their messy hair and the Smirnoff stains on their dresses. The noise was piercing and gave me major flashbacks of being around immature teens who have just discovered the bottle opener.

We all took a deep breath when stepping on the boat and reasoned that the party must be better than the bus journey. If there is one rule of horror films that I should have remembered it was “the situation never improves, things just get worse”. More blood and gore; heavier techno and an increasingly rowdy crowd. The final slaughter scene of our night starred the crazy bulldozing bouncers. Once the boat was docked, music silenced and the drunkards cut off, three huge men with muscles swaggered around yelling at everyone to “GET OFF THE BOAT. I WILL NOT ASK YOU AGAIN, GET OFF THE BOAT.” It was terrifying…

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All five of us made it out alive but not entirely unscathed. We were left with bruises, achy throats and slight mental scars. But we survived and getting home to eat pizza and curl up in our pajamas felt incredible.

Love Jill

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3 thoughts on “There Is No Escape On A Boat

    1. Sorry Margo, I had no intention of offending French Canadians! Our housemate is half French Canadian and we adore her. It was just meant to be a bit of tongue in cheek 🙂

    2. Jill, I was not offended, I just did not want you to think that all French Canadians were like the guys on the boat.

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