This past Friday night was one of those nights that turned into a $2 beer marathon. What was supposed to be an early night because I had to work at my Dad’s tire shop in the morning, turned into one of those 4th-of July-at-the-lake sort of drink all you can handle and then some nights. Pequeno Cridero was in town and so was Roman. As the evening wore on, and the one we were tying on got tied a little bit tighter, Pequeno and I noticed this girl sitting in the corner that kept glancing our way. Typically, he and I see pretty much eye to eye on the beanhead front, so if one of us says a girl is attractive, usually the other one has already spotted her.
This particular beanhead, however, was kind of hidden back in the corner at the bar. Her parents were with her and she definitely kept glancing our way. Pequeno kept mumbling something about a “boyfriend” or some crap, but I wasn’t listening. After a bit, her parents (or whoever the older folks with her were) left and she was by herself. Pequeno gave me some cash and told me to go put some music on the jukebox. I guess he’d heard Don’t Stop (Till You Get Enough) seven times too many that night.
I wandered over to the jukebox and put in a couple selections. The next thing I know, she’s helping me. Now, I can sling some musical bullshit with the best of them, so when a beanhead sidles up to the jukebox with me it’s typically on like Donkey Kong. This time was no exception. We settled on some hair metal, the typical Poison and Motley Crue stuff, then I pulled out my ace in the hole, Love Song by Tesla. Everyone knows that song, but nobody knows they know it. Honestly, few things are quite as effective as singing “Love will find a way” at the top of your lungs with someone in the bar. Try it sometime if you don’t believe me.
We all ended up standing around the bar together and this girl was ragging on Pequeno and it was hilarious. I was picking up some good vibes and was seriously considering acquiring her number when she mentioned something about her boyfriend. “Aww, damn.” I said to myself, “Doesn’t that figure?” About this time, Rick, the bartender comes over. He says to me, “You might wanna watch your step, Biloxi, her boyfriend is cool, but he’s a big sumbitch.” Yeah,” I reply. “I didn’t realize she had one till just now, but thanks for the heads up.”
Mildly defeated, I decided there wasn’t any harm in talking to her, so I stayed there. A fellow Wharf Rat, Jenn, then showed up and proceeded to drop about $60 on shots in about 10 minutes. Needless to say, we were all hammered. I look over and the girl I had been talking to has her head down on the bar and is obviously in bad shape and needed to go home. I said to her, “Your parents were just here a little while ago, where did they go?” She pointed down the road and said “bar.” Awesome.
I have this sort of odd misplaced drunken sense of duty. So, I decided it was up to me to get this girl back where from she came. As is often the case when you’ve been drinking for hours, I didn’t really take into account the consequences of my actions. So this girl and I, who turned out to be named Jessie, started off down the street in the direction she said her folks had gone. I had no real plan if we couldn’t find them and I wasn’t real confident she could tell me where she lived. I didn’t really know if I could remember where I lived.
As we were walking down the road, Jessie grabbed my hand and pulled my arm around her. As drunk as I was, I knew this wasn’t a good development. It’s funny how something can be pretty cool and fairly exciting, but also terribly bad for you, and you know it. This seldom keeps you from doing it anyway. Thus is the bane of my existence. I can give you the best advice in the world, but I’ll be damned if I’ll follow my own.
We made it a block or so down the road and a group of people was walking towards us. As we got closer, I realized it was her parents and there I was all hugged up with their daughter. Awkward. “Oh, good!” I exclaimed. “Here are your folks.” “I just wanted to make sure she got back alright. I’m gonna head back down this way.” I said to them, trying to make my leave as quickly and cleanly as possible. “Wait a second.” Said the father. “Hang out for a minute. We might go back to the bar.” So I introduced myself and leaned against a telephone pole, trying to play it cool. It soon became clear to them that this girl was way too drunk to go anywhere but home, so they got her a taxi. I said my goodbyes with a minimum of awkwardness and headed back to Fontaine’s.
When I got back to Fontaine’s, everybody decided to have an intervention on my behalf and tell me how lucky I was not to have my ass kicked. I was like, “Whatever man, I got henchmen for that.” Then Roman said I cried. Why, I have no idea, but he is not to be trusted. I can’t cry because they replaced my tear ducts with awesome at the same time I got my steel cheek bones back in ‘Nam. If you need to hire somebody to do a job, don’t hire Roman because he’ll just stand in your backyard and pee on your ant hills and smoke cigarettes. And lie. He does that too.
Fast forward to Monday. I went to the local Publix to pick up my weekly alotment of Drumstick ice cream cones and Hot Pockets and there in the frozen food section is Jessie. She was still pretty hot, so it’s good to know my beer goggles are pretty much just aviators, but with her was The Boyfriend. That man was not small. He was balding, so I had him beat on that front, but I’ve also never known a bald head to hinder an ass whooping. I didn’t make eye contact and went on about my business.
Later, as I was checking out, they got in line behind me. I glanced up at her and made eye contact, there was a glimmer of recognition in her eye, but I doubted she really remembered me. Her meathead boyfriend just glared. I probably dodged a bullet with that one, but you gotta be able to dodge those things if you’re gonna be a nice guy. We still finish last though. I haven’t figured out a way past that one.
