The Secret Life Of A Straight-Edge I

This one time, in college…

I was at a party and, being the only non-drinker present, I became the designated driver for all the drunken people who couldn’t otherwise get back home. During one trip from said party to the dorms, I had two very pretty girls sitting in my 4-speed, 2-door, hatchback, Dodge Omni of Virginity who were so amazingly drunk that they literally could not see and had to be poured into the car by myself and a random guy at the party who was sober enough to notice their plight. Also, he thought my name was ‘T-Bone’ and that I was going to bring him back some weed.

You know, I think he’s a doctor now.

About halfway back to the dorms, the girl sitting in the front seat decided that I was cute. I know this because she studied my profile for about four minutes and then shouted to her friend in the back seat that I was cute. Her friend, who at the time was laying face down on the floor of my car, yelled back that if she thought I was cute then she should “Thank the cutie for giving us a ride home.”

And now it gets weird.

Front Seat Girl (FSG) then stage whispers to me that she thinks I’m cute, as if I haven’t heard her screaming it to her friend already, and informs me that she’s a little drunk. Being the gentleman that I am, I shift into third gear and tell her that it’s because she’s so drunk that I’m taking her home. Party rules were that if you couldn’t stand under your own power, you went home.

Take note kids because that’s still a darn good rule.

FSG laughed at my comment and told me that I was such a good guy that I deserved a ‘reward’. Not knowing what to expect I said that I would leave her my room number and she could thank me the next day by sending me a note. FSG seemed to find that extremely funny and she laughed and laughed until she started making pig-snorting noises at which point she began to choke on her own spit and then coughed until she cried.

Yes, very attractive, I know.

Meanwhile, Back Seat Girl (BSG) managed to sit up and lean forward until her head was between her friend and me in the front. Looking straight ahead out the front windshield of my car, BSG very matter-of-factly stated, “I’m hot.” Since my poor Dodge Omni had no a/c and the windows were already rolled down I told her there was nothing I could do. Still looking dead ahead, and without even a hint of emotion, BSG said, “Oh. OK then.” and then she sat back and closed her eyes, for all intents and purposes dead asleep. At which point FSG stopped snort-laughing and turned to me with a very serious expression on her extremely drunk face and said, “I know how to thank you. I’ll give you a BJ! I give the BEST BJs. Ask anybody.”

And that’s when BSG started stripping…

To be continued…