I sat with my friend Mary for hours on the edge of Lake Michigan, listening to the water lapping gently at our feet. We'd taken our sandals off before we hung our legs over the edge of the dock, the first smart thing we'd done in some time. But it's hard for me to regret the stupid things we did. The huge margaritas we shared at our ten o'clock dinner after Heidi and I drove six hours to Chicago. The drinking game we played while we waited for Mary's roommate to get ready, not realizing until it was too late to go to the bar that he'd fallen asleep while changing his pants. So instead we sat on the Mary's floor and drank. Laughed. Talked. Took stupid pictures. Heidi passed out and Mary and I, as usual, weren't ready to go to bed even though it was four in the morning. And we were out of beer.
We walked to a 24 hour liquor store (our mecca) and bought a case of beer, laughing our way out of the shop when the cashier said to us, "you girls have a good night." Back at Mary's apartment, we covered Heidi with a blanket, loaded Mary's bag with cans of Miller Light, and began the fuzzy walk to the beach. Fuzzy not only because of the margaritas, but because I had taken my contacts out and forgotten to put on my glasses. I walked semi-blindly beside Mary, trusting that she'd lead me in the right direction, and as always, she did.
We ran into obstacles, of course. It still being dark and me not wearing my glasses, we chanced upon a couple sharing an intimate moment. Made not so intimate by Mary and I stumbling onto the scene and then running away giggling. Once we'd recovered, we sat on the dock and talked until the sun came up. And when we realized that the sun had come up we talked some more, until we both had to pee as a result of all the lapping water and, oh possibly, all the beer. We ran behind some bushes and then, after, laughed the entire way home because right next to the bushes, in all its pristine glory, was a Porta Potty that neither of us had noticed until it was no longer needed.