Committed Fuck-Up

       I spent the night in jail once. Here’s how I got there. In the spring of 2011, days before my high school graduation, one of my dear friends decided to throw a party while his parents were out of town. Word spread like wildfire. Everyone was freaking jazzed. A bunch of small-town, line-towing kids excited by the fact that we’d soon never again have to smell the nasty halls of that school were ready to rage. I lied to my mom to get out of the house that night, secured beer from a friend with a fake ID, and made my way to meet my besties amped for a night we were sure to remember. We had a freaking blast… until the cops showed up and popped the handful of us that were in the back of the line on the way out of the house. I was arrested for underage drinking, alongside my best friend and a few other classmates.

          I sobered up really quickly. Growing up, my mother had always told my siblings and I that if we ever did anything to get arrested NOT to call her. She would NOT be coming to get us because we deserved to be there. With my hands cuffed behind my back in the backseat of a cop car, my wheels started turning. How am I going to get myself out of this? Not calling mom, not letting her find out. Lightbulb: I had one friend (who I had a massive crush on, by the way) that I knew had a decent job and would potentially be able to afford posting my bail. It was $300 which was a lot of money for us high school kids at the time. I made my one phone call to him to ask if he’d come get me at 8AM and post my bail, promising I’d pay him back. Without hesitation, he said he would be there. And he was. He showed up promptly, bailed me out of jail, and drove me back to my car so I could get home without any suspicion.

Still to this day, I hold Bo Williams in high regard for being there for me. He’s a fucking solid dude, and I’ll never forget that.

          My punishment, after posting the $300 bail, was a court appearance where I was granted the right to a one-time ‘get out of jail free’ card (youth offenders), if I performed 24 hours of community service. After that, the incident would be removed from my record. Done. I could handle that. I was eighteen years old, an adult. I didn’t need anyone to sign off or answer for me. No one has to know. Until the mother of the kid who threw the party decided that she needed to call and tell my mom that I got arrested the previous weekend just because she thought she should know. Way to go, Karen. You just sent my mom into cardiac arrest. Now we’ve both been arrested. What a fucking shame. My mom screamed and hollered at me for hours, for days, for weeks after that. “I don’t even know who you are anymore!”, she dramatically yelled at me. Still just Stevie, Mom. It’s not like I got locked up in the penitentiary and came back with a few new prison tats.

          This was the first time I had ever truly defied my parents. My mom was fucking livid. My dad honestly didn’t give a fuck. He said, “Cover your ass, kid.” And I did. My parents didn’t have to put up a penny or do anything for me at all regarding the arrest or having it wiped from my record. I covered my ass, and I’m still proud of myself for that despite how disappointed my mother was and probably still is. This was the beginning of my fuck-uppery. And I’ve been rolling with it ever since. I’ve made so many stupid mistakes in my life, it’s unreal. But it’s given me character! My heart and soul have been molded by the wit and grit it takes to get in and out of a plethora of ‘oh shit’ situations and live to tell the tale.

          I wouldn’t change a thing. If I could go back and do things differently, I simply would not. That first fuck-up taught me that I was capable; capable of fucking up, capable of fixing it, capable of making my own choices, capable of living. I’ve faced so many challenges in my life, and I’ve overcome every single one of them and learned something every time. My life is literally the shit that people write books and make movies about, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s NEVER boring. I was talking to my dad the other day, and I found myself saying to him, “Being a fuck-up is one of the only things I’m great at. I should probably figure out how to monetize it.” He giggled. But seriously, I wear them like a badge of honor. It’s proof that I’m living.

For anyone that needs a little encouragement, Fuck Up! Live a little, learn something. Don’t be ashamed. Keep it light. Keep it innocent. Don’t hurt anyone. Just stick that fucking landing, Boo Boo.