I have my drink in one hand and my laptop in the other, grinding up the dance floor while simultaneously submitting my assignments, singing "Bitch don't kill my vibe!' the entire time. It's bizarre, beautiful and wild. Say what you want, but different people excel in different work environments. My ideal work environment involves loud hip hop and gorgeous human beings shaking their behinds in my face.
I've never seen the comfort in structure. A few weeks ago I was fast approaching a wall of zero creativity and bland inspiration in my school life. I am clearly no life coach, but I do know enough about brick walls to know one thing: never run into them. So I chose to combat this by booking a direct flight to Vegas. I'd never been to Vegas, but I did watch The Hangover in high school. I figured at the very least I'd get married to a stranger and get a green card.
My classes continued, and naturally I had assignments that were due during my trip. It's not as if my entire university was going to be like, "Alright let's chill on this education stuff until Rohil is done partying and being an irresponsible twat." It may surprise you to find out that I have a 4.0 GPA, which I'm proud of, and aim to maintain. So to pull off both a Vegas turn up and continue getting straight A's in school I'd need help. I'd need my own little sting operation.
I created a team made up of three crucial roles: the informant, the infiltrator, and the programmer. The informant would keep me posted on all critical in-class information.The infiltrator would use their next level charisma to win over the trust of their project group and then convince them to let me join. I'd step in at the last minute and cop an impressive collective grade.
Coding classes take up 99% of my major, so the programmer was the real MVP. They'd help me knock out my coding assignments as the informant would update us on what we'd have to do. We use different code languages for different programmes. That's when the value of the programmer is really showcased. I split up the work. I'd tackle the C# work, they'd tackle Java. I'd tackle the mimosa bar, they'd tackle the C++.
Everything was glorious in Vegas and the plan was working perfectly until my final night. I remember having the time of my life, then I remember darkness. I blacked out and came to in the middle row of a tour bus heading to L.A.. I remember thinking, "Shit. How long have been traveling? How far away is L.A.? How long will I be staying there? I have a flight to catch! I need to let my friends and family know. Battery is dead." A brief memory flashes through my mind of doing shots and yelling "Woohoo Hollywood!" with a group of strangers. Drunk me makes awesome life choices.
It was only once we reached Grauman's Chinese Theatre in Hollywood that I was able to find a charger, contact the people I needed to and exhale many sighs of relief upon confirming that my flight was only the following day. The Hangover is now so relevant to my life.
I somehow managed to get an A for every single assignments I handed in from Vegas. So, I guess there is such thing as being responsibly irresponsible. I'm not sure I recommend it to everyone, but if you can handle programming while simultaneously turning it up on the dance floor, then there's no better vacation.
Vegas was strange and amazing, but once you blackout and wake up in a different state, that's your cue to head back to reality for a little bit.