My Four Loko Story

If you were between the ages of 18-25 in 2010, there's a good chance you had the good misfortune of experiencing Four Loko in its prime -- before the authorities got involved -- at a time when its contents were as mysterious as they were potent.

It was a go-to for college students on a budget, or for high-school kids out of options. For the price of a pack of 5 Gum you could achieve new heights of recklessness. What you saved in cash you made up for in regret and nausea the following day. Still, there was no denying the effectiveness.

Poor decisions were a staple of my freshman year of college. One of these regrettable life choices involved my girlfriend who went to Ohio University, a solid trek away from my school, and began with the initial choice to date said girlfriend, but that is neither here nor there.

As I sat on an ergonomic space-saving twin bed taking healthy sips of one of the less repulsive Loko flavor variations, my girlfriend (we'll call her Becca) and her roommates held theirs in the air as they did the white-girl-dip-n-twist to "Like A G6."

This went on for quite some time, as the song was on repeat. Finally, it was time to go to the party which, as per usual, was being hosted by someone's roommate's older brother.

The girls packed their purses and struggled to drink the rest of their Lokos. When they couldn't quite make it through, one of them suggested that I finish the remainder.

These girls read Cosmo religiously (no, seriously, Becca called it "The Bible") and had undoubtedly been judging me on a mind-boggling number of levels since the moment I arrived. Here, I had a chance to prove myself. What exactly I was proving was unimportant. I snatched the remaining toxins from their hands and, in succession, drank what would amount to a little over a full can's worth of radioactive horse urine.

Poor Decision Count: 1

We bundled up and waddled out into the arctic night. Twenty minutes later we arrived at the house. Throughout the course of our trek, the toxic concoction had crept its way into my grey matter, and by now it had seized control of those parts responsible for sensibility and reason.

The house was modest in size and filled to the brim with reckless adolescence. Becca transferred the contents of her purse into my over-sized winter coat,  effectively transforming me into a walking wristlet. However, she kept her purse at her side to complete her outfit. We made our way to the kitchen and made quick work of the latter half of a tequila bottle we found in the freezer.

Poor Decision Count: 2

Someone began handing out Peppermint Schnapps and Hershey's Syrup shots. Delicious.

Poor Decision Count: 3

Those shots were seriously tasty, and for a group of youths unacquainted with drinks that didn't torment the gag reflex, they were a discovery to be fully exploited. So we found three more bottles of Peppermint Schnapps.

Poor Decision Count: 4-7

Something wasn't right. A sinister rumble in my lower abdomen spoke to me, softly at first, then with an unmistakable roar.

-- Pro Tip: Hate your toilet? --

Mix 2 1/2 Four Loko (preferably a variety of flavors)  
Add a carton of Peppermint Schnapps
 Garnish with Hershey's Syrup 
Pour resulting mixture our over a base of dining hall meatballs

When I got the bathroom there was a line. If there is one thing my compromised cognition was still capable of processing it was this: deadly deuces and crowded house parties don't dance well together. I spun on a heel and walked back into the fray.

Good Decision Count: 1

I had made up my mind. I would go back to Becca's dorm, punish her toilet, and be back before one could say "indigestion." I wasn't quite sure which way to go, and Becca and her roommates were nowhere to be found. No matter. My sense of direction is impeccable.

So, I clenched my buttocks and strode away towards her dormitory like an Emperor Penguin late for an important meeting.

Poor Decision Count: 8

Twenty minutes later I was in a part of campus I had never seen before. But, her dorm was just around the bend, I was sure.

Ten minutes later I was on a football field admiring the surrounding administrative buildings. I kept going. I was close.

Five minutes later I was on a farm.

Fifteen minutes passed and I was at the foot of a hill. At the top of the hill, the path I had been following made its way into the woods. I did not remember this landscape from our initial walk to the party. Still, I was sure it was a shortcut.

Five minutes later I was staring at three peculiar silhouettes set against the moonlit snow: two horses stood beside what was either a coyote or nefarious farm-dog about twenty yards ahead of me. I decided I would take a detour so as not to disrupt this mysterious late night gathering. I made my way directly right and into the thick of the woods.

Poor Decision Count: 9-13

Just like this, but with horses

True to penguin form, I slid about 20 feet down a 45-degree snow-covered slope before crashing into a fallen oak. I stood and brushed myself off, then made my way up the equally steep and twice-as-tall hill before me. I grabbed at trees and loose branches to pull myself up the icy wall, falling more than once in the process. When I reached the summit, I saw a series of similar hills and ravines in front of me. By this time, I had ripped the right leg of my jeans from my knee to my groin. I decided it might be a good time to call Becca and ask for directions.

Good Decision Count: Still 1.

I heard her ringtone and instinctively whipped around, expecting to see her behind me chuckling at my misfortune. I stood, confused, unable to locate the source of the ringtone. Then, I felt it -- her phone in my coat pocket.

It's really quite remarkable that her phone had stayed in there as I tumbled up and down the antagonistic trail. However, this wondrous fact was lost on me as the demon-baby woke up and cried out from the depths of my lower colon. I decided to keep going because, obviously, these woods couldn't go on forever, and her dorm was probably just on the other side of the next hill.

Poor Decision Count: ∞

Twenty minutes later Becca's phone rang. I was lying on the side of a hill, half covered in snow from a small-scale avalanche, breathing heavily. I removed my sopping gloves and grabbed the phone.

Accurate

"Where are you?!?"

It was Becca, calling from her friend's phone. I explained that I had left when I needed to go to the bathroom, and that I was on my way to her dorm but had gotten a little lost. When I asked her what part of campus the woods were in, she became quite concerned and tried to coach me through the remainder of my trek.

About ten minutes later the woods began to even out and I heard running water. I tumbled down one more hill to the foot of a small stream. Just beyond the stream was a road. I burst out of the tree line and onto the asphalt. It was the freeway.

I skirted along the edge of the treeline to avoid being seen by a cop car (by this point I had sobered up considerably, and some semblance of reason had found its way back to my mind). After about fifteen minutes of creeping along the freeway, I finally reached an exit and called Becca.

"I'm at Denny's."

She had no clue what I was talking about, and for good reason. As it turned out, the nearest Denny's was two exits up, about two miles away from campus and three from her dorm. I was just slightly off course.

Becca and her friend found me in the Denny's parking lot, hunched over on a parking block with the better part of my right thigh hanging out.

I stayed away from Four Loko for the remainder of the weekend.

Good Decision Count: 2

Epilogue: 

The next day we reviewed photos on Becca's digital camera which she and her friends liked to use to document their debauchery. We figured out that I left the party at around 12:00AM and they picked me up at Denny's just after 3:00AM. Becca and her roommates were partying and posing for photos, oblivious to my whereabouts, at 2:30AM.