Of course something like this would only happen to me, ON THE FIRST DATE. I'm fully convinced I've made a complete a$$ of myself and my date will never want to see me again... but first, I must pass out in the backseat of his car (cue Kanye West's "Drunk & Hot Girls").So my date is driving past the venue we had just left when one of his friends (who was also present at the cipher) sees what a predicament we're in and offers to drive us back to my house. Date's friend gets in the driver's seat, my date gets in the passenger's seat, and I'm holding the backseat down, of course. Then, as soon as ol' boy offers to drive us home, another car full of his buddies drives right up to the car we're in, and homeboy gets in the back of THEIR car and bounces. Leaves the door open and car running and everything.
"I know he's comin' back," Date says.
Ten minutes later...
"I KNOW he's comin' back." He ain't nevah came back
Some friends, guy! I think to myself."So how're we gonna get home?! You're wasted!" I say.
"I'll think of something! I gotchu," Date says.
Date reclaims the driver's seat* and I resume the fetal position in the backseat of his car.
Maybe 30 minutes later, I manage to prop myself up and slur, "Are we there yet?" Which totally startled my date, who apparently had forgotten I was passed out in the backseat *smh* Right at that moment, his tire blows out. Could this date get any worse?! Oh yes, it can.
"What the eff was THAT?!" I say.
"I think my tire just blew out!" says Date.
I pass out again (how helpful, right? lol). But not before I observe Date excuse himself, then get out the car, see the damage, and start angrily shaking his fists and dancing around mouthing cuss words (I couldn't hear him through the glass window), lmao. It was quite the scene
Anyways, somehow he manages to get the car into a gas station, where hopefully someone's around to help him change the tire. Luckily for Date, some crackhead posted up at the station offers his services. But not for free.
"Hey man, I'll help you change that tire for $5 and a screwdriver." A screwdriver though?
"Yeah a screwdriver. To change the tire with, man."
Uh, OK. Gonna need a lil more than a screwdriver to do that, homes. But Date got one out the trunk of his car and Mr. Crackie gets to work. Meanwhile, my date pukes his guts out in not one, but TWO places: In front of a closed CVS (they must have been so thrilled to open the store with THAT loveliness out front, lol) and this alley in back of the gas station.
"Betta not let the cops see you like that, buddy," says the crackhead. Getting morality lessons from a crackhead... yeah
You KNOW it's bad when a freakin' crackhead is telling you how to act in public!Maybe an hour later (still passed out at this point... damn those Kamikazes!), Mr. Crackie has accomplished nothing with that screwdriver. Date confiscates the screwdriver and denies Mr. Crackie's request for $5 for his hour's long attempt at changing the tire. That's when some non-crackish random on a bike rolls through the station and offers to change the tire in exchange for a pack of cigarettes. Score!
So an hour after THAT, we're on the road again. I didn't make it home til 4:30 am and my mom was pissed at me for being out so late. But, maaaan... what a night
*I totally do NOT advocate drunk driving. Seriously, I was a member of SADD in high school and everything. But really though, sometimes it's one of those nights. I try to avoid nights like that as much as possible. Trufax!
