it's because YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!
no, not really. it's just kind of embarrassing and i like to project myself in the best possible light ever at all times. and this story doesn't lend itself to that. but since i'm game enough to share even the most embarrassing photos/videos, here we go.
pull up a chair, chil'ens. i'm going to tell you a story of how not to behave in the city of platteville, wisconsin.
it was a wednesday, if i recall correctly. lol... i'm on my way home from work at the dealership and the roommate and i are discussing the possibility of going to platteville for the evening. it's kind of a funny topic because i'm always the one suggesting drinking in platteville but he's made a new "friend" that has suggested this new bar that serves 10$ fishbowls filled with a yummy blue concoction.
i get home. i him-haw around, trying to decide if i really want to go. okay, i'll go, but i'm not driving. the roommate is all over this, even though currently he is sans legal license. we get in the car and head out. and we are promptly pulled over about 37 seconds after leaving our house. he's quickly issued about 3000$ in tickets (driving while revoked, no proof of financial liability) and again we take off for platteville, but this time i'm behind the wheel.
we should have known to turn around at this point, but we feel we've got reason to get our drink on now. i mean, nothing makes 3000$ in new tickets go away like a serious buzz and the resulting hangover, right?
get to platteville. park the car. find the bar. it's non-smoking and the roommate doesn't have any cash and i am refusing to pay for drinks so he goes to find an atm and i get my first drink on the house because i'm cute and that's how i roll. roommate gets back, looks for new "friend" but can't find him in the midst of the ever-growing crowd of adorable and legal age frat boys coming in. my real reason for wanting to party in platteville is now revealed. i'm not having a good time, i'm trying not to drink a whole lot and we're both avoiding the fishbowls. bartender offers me anything with red bull in it so he doesn't have to throw away this half a can he has left. i love me some red bull and vodka. i drink up and instantly get stupid.
i'm ready to take on the fishbowl. it's blue, it's yummy, it's made mostly of everclear and i drank two that night. plus half the one of the adorable blonde fellow seated next to me... i don't remember what his name is.
this is where things get fuzzy...
roommate is too messed up to drive and knows he shouldn't anyway. it doesn't help that we apparently can't find the car. we decide to walk to the motel and crash. never mind that it's four miles away and i have no sense of balance when i'm not inebriated. excellent decision. i remember falling a couple of times, roommate decides maybe he should call a taxi. in the meantime, we are approached by one of platteville's finest who wonders about our ability to get to where we need to be. i mistake him for our cab driver and ask him to take me to the super 8.
roommate pulls me out of a public intoxication ticket and we continue to walk/stumble. get to a convenience store. this, i guess, i where i decided to put my debit card in the rack of krispy kremes and leave it for someone who wanted a glazed apple cruller. we continue on to the first hotel. i lie down on the bench outside. no availability. roommate pulls me up and we go to the second hotel. they have a couch inside the lobby. i make myself at home while he negotiates with the front desk.
i guess when i started puking up blue juice and pepperjack cheese (my dinner), they started talking about security deposits and the roommate got kind of belligerent. he called his "friend" to come and get us - we can stay at his place.
get in the car, get out of the car, promptly fall on my face, down a hill and into a tree after doing a backwards somersault. I ROCK. i am placed on ugly green sofa where i sleep soundly. (some people call that passing out...)
wake up in a strange room. i've got no phone, no id, no debit card and no car keys (why the drunk girl has the car keys is beyond me anyway.) my first words: "hi. where am i?" i can hear the roommate. i find the bathroom and realize i'm missing all my stuff. i begin to freak out. we must leave now anyway, because the sofa is no longer suitable for sitting.
retrace our steps. back to the hotels, the convenience store, all the places where i decided to fall. no phone, no nothing. my debit card is recovered from the convenience store (and i'm forced to listen to the donut rack story) and the roommate has my id and the car keys.
phone is still mia and this puts me over the edge. i'm seriously hung over, smell like vomit and cheese and there's grass in my hair. this is the epitome of a bad day.
go home. go to phone store get a loaner phone. piece of shit doesn't work. decide to sleep off my hangover. wake up hours later with 27 missed calls and about 15 text messages. my phone has been found and turned in to the platteville pd and they called my mom.
great. yeah, it's pretty much downhill from there.
but i can say that there are lessons learned from this experience:
- some frat boys are obviously gay. who knew?
- anything served in a fishbowl is best consumed in moderation or shared with someone else. or you could just stay away from anything blue in the first place.
- don't wear your favorite sweatshirt out drinking. it will never be the same.
- don't bother not telling your mom what's wrong with you. the platteville police department will call and break the news anyway.
- if you puke in a hotel lobby, try not to lose your cell phone. going back to the hotel to see if perhaps you left it there gets you some nasty ass looks, like they wanted to cold cock my honky ass.
- pretty much, just stay the hell out of platteville. or take a d.d.
and that's it. be safe on this quatro de mayo. i will be...