Passenger Story

As I walk with my friends I glance around all of the crowds of people. Music blasting, people dancing, the smell of illegal substances shoots up my nose. Lollapalooza: a sight to see. My friends and I walk up to kids we know from school, and they all drink out of a shared water bottle. I look and see their reactions to the drink as the cringe when it shoots down their throats. One of my friends asks for the bottle and takes a few gulps, and proceeds to pass it around. The 90 degree weather and the heat induced headache lead me to just want anything to drink. My mother’s voice pops in my head and tells me not to drink it. My friends offer me a sip and I decline, and I ask my friend for a sip of real water.
My friends run into the crowd after their new found feelings and I follow with them. They pass up people, dancing, kissing, smoking, and I simply follow behind. We dance with the crowd and we sing the words to songs I’ve listened to a few times before. I feel out of my element and my friends seem so comfortable and entertained. I feel like I’m standing there awkwardly not dancing, so I attempt to dance. I feel awkward and uneasy as my body moves in a lanky manner. So ungraceful, yet so not cool. I’m conflicted on what my movements should be.
After the songs end my friend grabs my hand and we form a chain to get out of the pit of people. I run and laugh with them, yet I’m so out of my element. I feel conflicted on why I ever came, so far the day has not been spectacular, everyone told me that I absolutely had to go. Another time I got influenced by peer pressure. Today I have seen new things, and done new things, and had an overall interesting experience, but I am not ready to come back for another two days.