And So My Troubles Began
After some scrumptious pre-birthday cake for Adriane, we made our way to Mary’s house where a massive celebration was already underway. It was a short walk but we needed to dodge the early afternoon drunken infestation. Once at the house, we were careful to hold on to what was left of our whiskey and champagne as we mingled about. There was beer pong, jello shots and high spirits. I never anticipated any problems. That is until I let my guard down for a second.
I had placed my bottle of Jameson’s down on the front stoop of the house. I don’t remember exactly why I did it. I assume I was helping someone and needed both hands. I’m hoping it was one of the pretty girls I was talking to. Whatever the reasons, when I turned back, the bottle was gone. I cried out, “Damn! Someone took my whiskey,” and followed with a laugh. I was plenty intoxicated at that point and the chances of losing the bottle were high anyway, so I wasn’t all that upset. However it seemed someone took me very seriously.
“What are you, a fuckin’ racist?” I heard angrily directed at me. “What? No! What?” I was so confused. Then some mousy little punk egged him on by saying, “Dude, he’s blaming you ’cause you’re the only black dude here.” I tried to explain that I was not blaming anyone. I was asking around to see if anyone saw the bottle so I could get some more. This did not appease the frat-boy bravado as he called me a racist pussy. I just looked at him and laughed.
Things were looking up as I caught a quick glimpse of a guy taking sips from a bottle hidden in his jacket. I casually walked over to him and relayed my missing whiskey tale. He assured me that he had bought the bottle, but said I could have some. I preceded to dump about half of what was left into my plastic cup. This was partly to see his reaction. When his friend said, “Man look how much he took,” the kid said it was OK. That clinched it for me. No college student would willingly give up that much if he’d paid $30.00 for the bottle.
Girls is the Craziest Peoples
With that mystery solved, I went back to the party and to my conversation with a very pretty girl whose name I never got. Later I’d realize that a preoccupation kept me from truly enjoying this moment. When my phone rang and I heard the voice of Sarah from the night before, I unwisely put all my attention into meeting up with her. When she showed up, I was glad to follow her and about six of her friends back to her place. Mary’s party had gotten very crowded by this point, so a smaller gathering sounded good. Then something baffling happened.
As we all walked into her tiny apartment, our group had grown to about seven or eight people. We were all kinda hungry and ordered some pizza. There was music playing and someone was serving up drinks at the kitchen counter. Then for some reason, Sarah asked to see me out in the hall. I was hoping for a teenage-style make out session, but instead got hit with an unexpected brick. She said, “My friend Christine wants to go to bed, so you have to leave now.”
I looked at her bewildered and said, “You are so full of shit. There’s over a half dozen people in there, you just ordered pizza and drinks are flowing. No one is going to sleep.” I stormed off thinking what a total loon this girl was. I made my way back to Mary’s party in the hopes of shedding this anger. Despite my efforts, what this girl did was still haunting me.
This goes beyond the usual disappointment of not hooking up or whatever. This was a girl who sought me out, asked me to meet up, invited me back to her place and pulled a completely unpredictable 180° turn on me. My anger was churning and what I needed now was some time alone to cool down before I did anything stupid. The idea was to take a walk home, cool off and go back out. But when I tried to call everyone to tell them what was up, my phone was dead.
