The large Douglas fir trees stood as black silhouettes against the cotton-like sky, which glowed as the city lights reflected off the low, billowing clouds. A January mist hung in the air—more than fog but not quite rain. The moisture wrapped around you, cool and subtle, until you stepped into a home or building and suddenly realized you were wet.
I was at the home of a friend of mine who happened to be a girl. We attended the same high school, had dated a few times, and enjoyed each other's company. While it wasn’t a serious relationship, it was a relationship nonetheless.
Looking back, that evening started with a phone call. You know, the kind where I was sitting on the couch in the family room, talking on the phone connected to the kitchen by a thirty-foot phone cord. We discussed what we wanted to do that night. She mentioned that she had heard about a party taking place not far from where she lived and asked if I wanted to go. Although I wasn’t much of a partier, I thought I’d go with her since it was something she wanted to do.
She opened the front door, and I stepped into her house. I greeted her parents, engaged in small talk and pleasantries, and then we left. It was only a five-minute drive from her house to the party. The gathering was taking place in a condo complex in the Southwest hills of Eugene, Oregon. It was a nice place, and I found a parking spot just down the street. We got out of the car and walked through the mist toward the building. The condos were built into the side of a hill, surrounded by large Douglas fir trees, alder trees, rhododendrons, Oregon grapes, and ferns.
The garage of each unit was located on the uphill street side, so we walked along a wooden deck walkway around the building to the front door, which faced the downhill view of the small creek-bottom draw below. As we walked along the deck, we passed a window cracked open about an inch. The unmistakable, sweet, pungent smell of someone smoking weed lingered in the air, and I could also hear Van Halen playing softly in the background.
We reached the front door, and my girlfriend opened it, walking right in. She must have known the person who lived there and felt comfortable enough not to knock. As I stepped through the door, I was immediately hit with the vibration of loud music, the haze of pot smoke hovering about three feet off the floor, and the sight of kids making out on the couches. I turned to my right, where the kitchen was located, and saw five guys in constant motion. The kitchen table had been pushed against the wall. One guy lay on the floor while another stood on a chair, holding a beer bong funnel near the ceiling. The third guy stood on another chair, pouring cans of beer into the funnel. The five- or six-foot tube hung down into the guy’s mouth on the floor. Beer spilled everywhere as laughter, cheers, and hoots filled the air while he choked and gagged on the beer.
The girl I was with found a friend of hers and started talking. I decided to use the bathroom, so I walked through the living room to the bathroom, which was around the corner to the right and down the hall. I stepped inside to find the tub full of ice, with a large silver keg lying on its side in the ice. I walked back down the hall past a room with a closed door. I could hear voices inside, and it was likely the room with the cracked open window we had passed on our way in.
I returned to the living room and found the girl I came to the party with. I stood there patiently until I found a moment to speak. I told her that I thought we should probably leave. I explained that I didn’t have a good feeling about being there and that it wasn’t a healthy atmosphere. Now, I had been to parties before, but this one simply felt off.
She turned on her heels and said, “But I want to stay. I’ve wanted to come to this party all week!”
I repeated, “It’s not a good atmosphere. I’m not comfortable staying.”
She responded, “Well, I’m not leaving.”
I calmly said, “That’s fine. But let’s call your parents because they think you’re with me. You can just let them know that I went home.”
So, she called her parents and found someone willing to give her a ride home. I didn’t think much of it. I drove home without any animosity or frustration. When I got home, I walked into the living room, sat on the couch, and turned on the TV. It was about 8:30 p.m. when my mom walked down the hall and asked, “What are you doing home?”
I just mentioned that I decided to come home early and didn’t elaborate further.
The following Monday at school, I was standing near the planter area where many of the students gathered before class. I was chatting with some friends when the girl from the party walked over to me. We sat on the edge of the planter, and I asked her how she was doing. She was a bit quiet and shy.
I asked, “What’s the matter?”
She simply said, “You’re right.”
I furrowed my brow and asked, “About what?”
She replied, “You’re right, it is a bad atmosphere.”
I didn’t initially understand what she meant. Then I remembered our conversation at the party. I asked her what had happened and what she meant by that, but she wouldn’t say. She simply stood up and walked to class. I started asking others if they had heard anything about the party, but no one seemed to know anything.
To this day, I know something happened at that party after I left. It was likely a bad experience of some kind, but I have no idea what. What I do know is that I’m glad I paid attention to that feeling I had. I’m glad I decided to leave.
I’ve often wondered if this experience had an impact on my career choices. I now work in an organization that helps teens dealing with these very concerns.
This experience raises some questions: Was that feeling I had just coincidental, in line with the fact that it was a rough party? Was it a prompting or spiritual inspiration of some kind? Or was it not a feeling at all, but my mind analyzing the situation and coming to the conclusion that I should leave? Have you ever had similar thoughts or feelings? Have you ever had an experience where you had a feeling but didn’t heed it, only to regret it later? This is definitely something worth thinking about!
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