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The Night Of September 11

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There are countless times in life where I have found myself asking my parents for advice on what to do in certain situations. They have always helped me out and led me to the right decision along the way. I never thought that I would be put into a situation, at just 18 years old, in which I wasn’t able to turn to them in person for help, and the only way I could contact them was through a phone call. The night of June 11, 2015 was the night I learned a very important lesson. I learned that all of my actions have consequences whether they be good, or in this certain situation, bad.

It was a hot summer night in South Carolina and all of my friends and I were getting ready to go to a Waka Flocka Flame concert at the House of Blues. We had all bought our tickets at the beginning of the week because we thought it would be a great way to end our senior trip. With all of us piled into cars, went out to eat and then arrived at our friends’ house to hangout before. We were all having a great time and finally decided to leave the house to go to the concert. Once we pulled into the parking lot, I remembered that I had forgotten to use the restroom. I had to go so badly and the thought of waiting in line for an hour made it even harder to hold it in. I quickly searched the surroundings and sadly, I didn’t see any porta potty’s, there were no restaurants in close walking distance and the security guards at the door weren’t letting anyone through. At this point, I was on the verge of
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