I can’t seem to live a boring normal life, as hard as I try. Karma keeps catching up to me for all the horrible things I do to people, and it’s far from getting even.
The last weekend I spent at College Park, made going out where I live feel like church, so I decided to pay my friend Stinger another visit. However, this time my friend Ken wanted to tag along. After hearing all about my adventures last weekend, who wouldn’t?
Worst decision of his life.
Part 1: Why Falcor doesn’t close
Ken “Before we leave I need to get something to eat”
Falcor “Whatever, just let’s make it quick, I should be wasted, I’m not”
We pull into the shopping center near my house and it appears that his options for food are pretty limited. His immediate choice is the 5 Guys that just opened up. I follow.
We pass four cops on the way in. I wonder to myself why an almost empty shopping center required so much security, but didn’t care. I just took a mental note not to rob the 5 Guys.
Once inside, Ken wanders over to the counter and starts to order some food, this doesn’t interest me, so I start to aimlessly drift around the 5 Guys and notice a huge crate of peanuts in the middle of the store. I ask the closest employee what the deal is.
Falcor “What’s the deal with all the peanuts, free food?”
BusBoy “Yeah, jus help yoself”
The restaurant isn’t busy and I hate when food goes to waste, especially the free kind
Falcor “Can I just take the crate?”
BusBoy [chuckles]
Falcor “Would you try and stop me?”
BusBoy “Nah, I ain’t goin ta stop ya”
Remembering the four cops outside the store, I decide to confirm that this won’t piss anybody off. I know that the bus boy was alright with it, but there is always “that guy” that takes his minimum wage job way to seriously, and I didn’t need to go to jail for grand theft legume.
I walk back over to the counter where Ken is in the process of picking up his food. There is a fat chick managing the counter and I wonder if the pad locks on the walk in freezer are enough to keep her out and them in business. I shoot her a smile and ask about the peanuts. She smiles back, and tells me she’d rather I not take the whole crate. I don’t care what fat girls think, but cops are another story. I look sad. She hands me a huge carry out bag and tells me I should fill it with peanuts. I do just that.
With Ken holding open the bag I pick up the enormous crate of peanuts and fill it to the brim. I had enough peanuts to feed the country of Malawi if their population had tripled.
We head to College Park. Equip with every ingredient the recipe for a good time calls for: Food, liquor, and a means to consume dangerous levels of both.
Everything is going according to plan. No traffic this time. (Last voyage to College Park took me several hours, a trip that should have taken only forty five minutes. Bumper to bumper traffic made my life a living hell (I drive a manual, which made it particularly awful), so I prayed to god that we’d have smooth sailing all the way up 295 south. He granted my wish, but that was the extent of his mercy. The next twenty four hours proved that.)
We arrived at last. Went out to the bars and braced ourselves for a great time. No such luck. The bar was full of mildly attractive girls with a few fatties sprinkled about, I was obviously going to need more liquor.
I’m poor, and the bar is expensive. However, I’m creative. I borrowed my friend’s flask especially for this little outing and it worked perfectly. I inconspicuously unscrewed the top and started to pour its glorious contents into my face.
A few girls noticed my flask, and in an instant I became the center of attention. Life was good.
I passed the flask around, and soon enough every girl in the bar had their fair share. Note to self: get checked.
Bar doesn’t get any better, and the flask has run dry. Stinger reminds us one of his roommates is suppose to be having a huge party back at his place. Home it is.
We get there just as it’s ending. Only a few people remain, most of them are passed out. A few girls are still awake, so sleeping at this point is out of the question. One girl starts to flirt with me, in turn I flirt back. The alcohol catches up with me, and I black out.
Here is how the night continues on as Ken and Stinger recall:
Girl flirts
I flirt
Girl starts wondering out loud where she should sleep tonight
I don’t get the hint
Girl continues wondering out loud where she should sleep tonight
I don’t get the hint
I pass out
Next morning I wake up, I get mad at Ken and Stinger, because if I don’t hook up with a girl, by default I blame them. Their defense:
She’s fat
Hold up. No, I’ve seen a few fat girls in my day, and she was definitely within the acceptable boundaries. If she was “oh no, there goes all the leftovers” fat, then I wouldn’t have cared, but in my last desperate attempt to salvage a night I would have settled for “I just can’t get to the gym much” fat. A little cushion for the pushin’ never broke a pelvis.
They actually thought they had done me a favor.
Part 2: God is pissed
Ken and I pack, and get ready for the ride home. Before we leave we eat a few peanuts to hold us over, but the taste of failure still lingers in our mouth.
Stinger walks us out, but we are forced to walk straight back in. Ken’s car has been towed.
Slim, one of Stinger’s roommate is passed out drunk on the floor. If we’re going to be miserable, then we’d like some company, thank you. We wake him up to have him drive us to the tow lot. He tells us his car is a few miles away (this college campus is bigger than some cities). We decide to take a taxi to get his car, and make him drive us the rest of the way. Slim is understandably pissed, but who am I to care?
We flag down a taxi, and pile in. The taxi driver is Solomon Vandy straight out of Blood Diamond.
Solomon “Weyda goin?”
I give him the address
Solomon [indiscernible speech]
Falcor “….sure”
We drive for a minute or two in silence, none of us want to attempt to break down any language barriers.
Solomon [indiscernible speech] “hahaha haha” [points at Slim]
We all laugh along nervously, except for Slim who just glares at him annoyed
As we pass the campus stadium, I point out a group of people playing some sort of bean bag toss right outside where the football game was about to start
Falcor “Those guys look like they’re having fun, bet their cars weren’t towed.”
The rest of the ride is in silence.
We finally get to Slim’s car and he takes us to Silver Spring (where Ken’s car has been impounded). Now, if you’ve never been to Silver Spring, It’s a trailer park that got too big, so they gave it a name and now it’s a “city”.
As we pull up to the impound lot it’s a boarded up dump just like the rest of the city. We walk around the side where a couple of guys with mullets are slouched against the adjacent building smoking cigarettes. [insert redneck jokes here]
A much larger redneck walks out, and approaches the idle fuckwitts
FatOne “Aren ya sappose ta bee at wurk”
Falcor [answering for them] “are you kidding we’ve got drinking ta do, I’m not nearly as stoned as I should be, and it’s awready 12.”
They didn’t hear me. Good.
We redirect our focus to the guy that appears to be overseeing the impound lot.
He wants $150, so I put my top notch negotiating skills into play
Impounder “Fines ar $150″
Falcor “What can I get for this bag of peanuts”
All I get is a blank stare, he obviously isn’t amused, I don’t care.
Falcor “So, 50 bucks right?”
Impounder “$150″
Falcor “20 bucks ..and a bag of peanuts”
Falcor “For $200 can we get our choice of car?”
I feel it start to drizzle, and I think to myself how poetic it would be for someone to drop the “this day can’t get any worse line” the moment before it starts to pour. It would be a scene right out of a John Cusack movie.
I turn around and look at my friends
Falcor “How does it feel to know god hates you?”
Part 3: Wrong way
Ken and I split off on our own and say our goodbyes to Slim and Stinger. We get directions from the Impounder and head “home”.
Heavy fog sets in. It’s almost impossible to see more than a few cars up, but pulling over will delay our arrival, so we press on.
We’re stuck, traffic is awful. My ass is starting to cramp up, it’s been in one position way to long. Life isn’t improving. Up ahead I spot the Mormon temple. I take this as a sign from God that there are worse places I could be right now.
A few miles up we spot a sign that says we’re heading south. North is the way home, and we’ve been on the wrong side of these tracks for a while.
The fog has been clearing up, and Ken recognizes where we are: Virginia
If it were any other day I would have been pissed. All I could do at that point was laugh, Ken is confused.
