She was 19, smart, silly and beautiful.
In the autopsy, her blood alcohol level was .408.
Her name was Molly Ammon, and she was my roommate.
She and her friends were drinking in Madeira Beach on the last Saturday of Spring Break. She was inebriated, so her friends did what college students do: They put her to bed to sleep it off. Except this time — the morning of March 13, 2011 — she never woke up.
Molly’s friends didn’t call for help when she was stumbling and slurring. They didn’t think anything worse than a rough hangover would result. I can’t blame them. College students think they’re invincible. I know I used to think so.
I’m not here to tell you not to drink. I’m not going to preach about the dangers of underage drinking. I’m telling you not to be stupid.
Here’s something not every UF student knows: UF announced a Medical Amnesty Policy in April 2011. The policy protects students from disciplinary action if they seek help for themselves or a friend who is having a medical emergency involving alcohol or drugs.
Think about it. If you call 911, what’s the worst thing that could happen? Your friend will have his stomach pumped? He’ll have a hefty emergency-room bill, so he’ll be mad at you for a few days?
Who the hell cares? Let him be mad at you.
Blame it on me.
Molly had a crazy laugh unlike anything I’d ever heard. It was honest and contagious. The last time I heard it was March 4, 2011, the Friday before Spring Break. I walked into our dorm room on the fourth floor of Jennings Hall, and I climbed the ladder to her bunk where she was still sleeping. I bounced on the bed, woke her up and told her about my night. We gossiped and laughed like freshmen girls do; I said goodbye, and I left for Spring Break. I am so glad I woke her up that morning.
We used to go to the pool next to Broward Hall. We used to go to Midtown. We used to go to Boston Market by the Oaks Mall. One time, we went to a John Mayer concert in Tampa, where she was from. That’s when I fell in love with her family.
No mother should have to bury her child. Molly’s mom, Angie, travels and tells her story to young people. She’s the strongest woman I know.
Molly’s older sister, Katie, has to live every day without her only sister.
Her father, Bob, wakes up knowing his baby girl lost her life way too early.
It didn’t have to happen. You’d think it would go without saying, but I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen the typical 2 a.m. Gainesville scene: wasted college students stumbling around Midtown, incoherent, while their friends laugh it off and drag their drunk friends home.
Don’t laugh. It’s not funny. Laughing is the dumbest thing anyone could possibly do when a friend can’t stand up or speak.
My idea of Spring Break will never be the same.
Make sure you remember yours for all the right reasons.
Call for help.
[Eleni Kouvatsos is a UF public relations senior and an Alligator copy desk chief. A version of this column ran on page 7 on 2/28/2014 under the headline "If a friend is incoherent, call for help: You won’t get in trouble"]
