RV
About five years after we graduated from college, I went back down for a football game with two of my guy friends. We'd all been part of a group of people who started hanging out freshman year. One of them, Clay, I met because he roomed with my best friend's friend from high school. The other one I met when we burst into his room with a bottle of booze and taught him and his gay friend how to do slammers. Yes, I'm sorry, Bo. Ben was definitely gay.
Clay still lived in the state where we went to school and Bo was flying in. We met in the big city, where Clay was to pick us up and drive us down to campus, about an hour away.
So I trundle down to the parking lot of the hotel to wait for them. Clay used to drive a crappy little Escort or something similar, so I was kind of watching for that, although it was likely he was driving something newer. However, I was not prepared for what I eventually saw.
A large, avocado-colored RV careened into the parking lot, cutting the corner just a bit too close and hitting the curb on its way into the parking lot. I could see two faces beaming at me through the curved glass windshield.
"Please, God, no. Don't let it be," I silently prayed. But, of course, it was.
Clay managed to borrow the behemoth from his roommate, who'd likely purchased it at a sheriff's auction after a drug raid at the local meth lab. Inside was like Brady central, with puke-colored carpet and lovely wood-grain stickers on all the cabinetry. The toilet didn't work (a fact to remember later) but it had lots of seating and could hold many, many coolers. In short, a perfect expanded party bus.
So I hopped in and we were on our way. Of course, we didn't get very far before stopping for a beer run. This was always fun for us, since we all remembered the days when we couldn't buy beer at all. We then made the hour run down to campus.
I can't tell you how many people rose to their feet and gave us rounds of applause as we drove through the neighborhoods near the football stadium. We were conquering heroes returned. We were role models. We were in a position to aspire to. We were, in short, complete assholes.
We go to the game. We drank beer in the parking lot. We probably lost. But it was a beautiful day, we had a great time, it was just like the old days. Just without the likelihood of arrest looming in our immediate future (that only came to fruition a few years later).
Later, we walked through campus to our favorite bar, where we managed to get barstools, witnessed a fistfight and drank our fill. After a day full of drinking, we opted to camp out in the RV rather than try to make it back to the city that night. However, we knew we needed to get an early start, since Bo had to catch a flight back out of town.
We woke up and start the RV. It was foggy that morning, Scooby-Doo foggy, if you know what I mean. We drove out of the ghostly campus, through the country-side toward the city. The airport was approximately an hour or so away and we'd left with plenty of time to spare. So we thought.
Now to the part of the story Bo and Clay don't know. I'd been under a lot of stress during this period of time. I had a huge, huge, huge work project on the table that was going to go to presentation in a week. I really shouldn't have been out of town at all, much less out boozing at a football game. I was a total stress-ball--couldn't sleep or eat or much of anything. I'd figured I needed a break, just to get away from the situation and get a little perspective. Hey, any rationalization in a storm.
Also, I am really, really regular, you know, in the womanly sense of the word. So regular that I pull other people onto my schedule. I know, you think this is TMI, but it does come into play in the story.
I wasn't due for another two weeks. Well past the date of my presentation. However, as I sat in that RV...the one with no working bathroom and no running water, I realized that I was early. Way early.
Just as I came to that realization, the RV ground to a halt.
"What the hell?"
Clay went outside to look under what could, in some third-world countries, be considered a hood. I went in what could be called the bathroom, except there was no bath and, really, no room, and confirmed my suspicion. No tampons, no bathroom, stranded an hour from the city and my luggage and my dignity.
Although the gas meter read that there was still gas in the tank, Clay took a gamble and began jogging toward the nearest service station, about five miles up the road. Bo and I sat in the RV, pondering our respective fates should we fail to reach town. Him: stranded in the midwest for the foreseeable future. Me: complete humiliation in front of guys. You judge who was worse off.
Luckily, Clay found some motorist to take pity on him and got a ride to the service station, where he bought five gallons of gas. And, since you're actually hearing this story, you must know by now that the RV actually did run out of gas and it wasn't anything more serious. Bo caught his plane, I got to the drugstore and Clay drove that bad boy all the way home.
And now you know...the rest of the story.
Clay still lived in the state where we went to school and Bo was flying in. We met in the big city, where Clay was to pick us up and drive us down to campus, about an hour away.
So I trundle down to the parking lot of the hotel to wait for them. Clay used to drive a crappy little Escort or something similar, so I was kind of watching for that, although it was likely he was driving something newer. However, I was not prepared for what I eventually saw.
A large, avocado-colored RV careened into the parking lot, cutting the corner just a bit too close and hitting the curb on its way into the parking lot. I could see two faces beaming at me through the curved glass windshield.
"Please, God, no. Don't let it be," I silently prayed. But, of course, it was.
Clay managed to borrow the behemoth from his roommate, who'd likely purchased it at a sheriff's auction after a drug raid at the local meth lab. Inside was like Brady central, with puke-colored carpet and lovely wood-grain stickers on all the cabinetry. The toilet didn't work (a fact to remember later) but it had lots of seating and could hold many, many coolers. In short, a perfect expanded party bus.
So I hopped in and we were on our way. Of course, we didn't get very far before stopping for a beer run. This was always fun for us, since we all remembered the days when we couldn't buy beer at all. We then made the hour run down to campus.
I can't tell you how many people rose to their feet and gave us rounds of applause as we drove through the neighborhoods near the football stadium. We were conquering heroes returned. We were role models. We were in a position to aspire to. We were, in short, complete assholes.
We go to the game. We drank beer in the parking lot. We probably lost. But it was a beautiful day, we had a great time, it was just like the old days. Just without the likelihood of arrest looming in our immediate future (that only came to fruition a few years later).
Later, we walked through campus to our favorite bar, where we managed to get barstools, witnessed a fistfight and drank our fill. After a day full of drinking, we opted to camp out in the RV rather than try to make it back to the city that night. However, we knew we needed to get an early start, since Bo had to catch a flight back out of town.
We woke up and start the RV. It was foggy that morning, Scooby-Doo foggy, if you know what I mean. We drove out of the ghostly campus, through the country-side toward the city. The airport was approximately an hour or so away and we'd left with plenty of time to spare. So we thought.
Now to the part of the story Bo and Clay don't know. I'd been under a lot of stress during this period of time. I had a huge, huge, huge work project on the table that was going to go to presentation in a week. I really shouldn't have been out of town at all, much less out boozing at a football game. I was a total stress-ball--couldn't sleep or eat or much of anything. I'd figured I needed a break, just to get away from the situation and get a little perspective. Hey, any rationalization in a storm.
Also, I am really, really regular, you know, in the womanly sense of the word. So regular that I pull other people onto my schedule. I know, you think this is TMI, but it does come into play in the story.
I wasn't due for another two weeks. Well past the date of my presentation. However, as I sat in that RV...the one with no working bathroom and no running water, I realized that I was early. Way early.
Just as I came to that realization, the RV ground to a halt.
"What the hell?"
Clay went outside to look under what could, in some third-world countries, be considered a hood. I went in what could be called the bathroom, except there was no bath and, really, no room, and confirmed my suspicion. No tampons, no bathroom, stranded an hour from the city and my luggage and my dignity.
Although the gas meter read that there was still gas in the tank, Clay took a gamble and began jogging toward the nearest service station, about five miles up the road. Bo and I sat in the RV, pondering our respective fates should we fail to reach town. Him: stranded in the midwest for the foreseeable future. Me: complete humiliation in front of guys. You judge who was worse off.
Luckily, Clay found some motorist to take pity on him and got a ride to the service station, where he bought five gallons of gas. And, since you're actually hearing this story, you must know by now that the RV actually did run out of gas and it wasn't anything more serious. Bo caught his plane, I got to the drugstore and Clay drove that bad boy all the way home.
And now you know...the rest of the story.
posted by Miss Head at
12:06 PM
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