A Heavy Dose Of Reality, Round 1
August 23, 2001

I'm writing this in August, so forgive the lack of detail due to my pathetic memory. Though, there are many details that I do remember, that I've left out - mostly because they aren't necessary, and I wouldn't want to embarrass some people (Ryan...)

Back in April, I went to a keg party at a townhouse near York University in Toronto. I was having a great time; I even ran into an old friend from Montreal, and met a bunch of other great people. There were probably about 200 people crammed into this little house, and the beer and the liquor flowed freely - you know, the kind of party you see in movies that doesn't actually happen nearly as often as Hollywood would have us think.

The night, however, quickly took a turn for the worse. Around 11:30, after drinking a bit (or more than a bit) too much, one of the partygoers slipped and fell down the steps to the basement, knocking himself unconscious in the process.

Pandemonium ensued. At first, people didn't know what was going on. Someone yelled for a phone, and I handed them mine. 911 was called, and word spread through the crowd about what had happened. People kept drinking, though, and the kegs were finished in good time.

Soon, an ambulance came, as well as four police officers. While the meds carted the injured party off, still unconscious, the cops tried to figure out exactly what had happened. Those who hadn't cleared out as soon as the police came were quickly put under house arrest. (It's important to note, here, that the officers must treat this situation as a crime scene until it could be determined otherwise; so, as much as it sucked to not be allowed to go home, they were doing the right thing.)

The music was turned off, and someone began strumming a guitar. Someone else ordered pizza for everyone. And we waited.

Around 2:30, the police began taking everyone's statements. About 4:00am, we were finally told we could leave.

The story doesn't end there.

The guy who fell down the stairs was a friend of a friend; I remembered him vaguely from earlier in the night, and I'd met him at JamFest before. Not close ties, but close enough to hit home.

The next day, I heard from a few people that he'd fallen into a coma after arriving at the hospital. He died the following week, never having regained consciousness after falling.

Be careful when you drink, folks. You never know what could happen. And stories like this are not fun to tell.