Day With Damien- Day 19
October 3, 2003
Written by: Damien
The mission for the night was simple: Get Ryan laid. Since my bro Ryan broke it off with his chick, he’s been suffering from S.R.S. (Semen Retention Syndrome) and was looking to rebound with some bitch named Cathy that he just met. Cathy wanted to meet up with Ryan at a restaurant/bar called Don Jose’s. She was having an after work get together that night with a few of her friends there and wanted Ryan to bring a few of his friends (us) to hang out with them. Ryan said that he’ll buy the beer, so I decided to join in.
It’s about 8pm. There was a total of 4 of us that got together at my place and built a nice base buzz before we decided to split. The crew for the evening was me, Ryan, Miraslov (‘Slav) and Doug. ‘Slav and I were first to start getting dusted with my soulmate, the kegerator. Ryan was driving a small Toyota truck and took ‘Slav with him. Doug had an old Corvair that he was borrowing from his brother and I was to ride with him. Before we went to Don Jose’s, Ryan wanted to score some smoke so he and Doug could get stoned before making the big move on the big woman. We decide to jump on the freeway and head over to Ryans buddy’s house who had a fat sack of herb waiting for him.
On the way over there, Ryan and Doug decide to play a real life version of “The Fast and The Furious” and see who can get on the freeway first. Both of them were trying to haul ass in their respective pieces of shit and we hit the onramp at about 60 mph. As the two lanes merged into one, Ryan (in the left lane) had a slight lead on us and merged over to the right lane where we were, expecting Doug to slow down. Doug refused to. We ended up bumping into each other. Ryans truck bounced off of our car and smacked into the left curb and we started to spin. Ryan was able to regain control of his truck and kept driving. We weren’t so lucky. I grabbed onto the dashboard as the seatbeltless Corvair spun about 2 or 3 times. We wound up half on/half off of the onramp with the back tires hanging over the edge. Good thing that the embankment off the side of the road wasn’t very steep or we could have been fucked.
Doug was shitting his pants. I think I was too. Everything was happening so fast. After me calling him a nice selection of offensive names, we hurried up and tried to push the rest of the car back onto the road. It was halfway stuck right in the middle of the car, on the curb and hanging over into the iceplant on the side of the freeway. After a few minutes of futility, we saw a cop car entering the freeway and decided it was time to run. We ran through a shallow, dry ditch off the side of freeway, drunk as 2 skunks. It was at this time that Doug told me about the multiple warrants he had for his arrest and how he wasn’t about to go to jail tonight.
This is just great. The last thing I’m down with is being fucked with by cops and running from them is even lower on my list. By now, I felt that we had no choice and were beyond the point of return. Doug climbs out of the ditch and proceeds to jump the chain link fence that was separating the side of the freeway and an elementary school. As I was doing the same to follow, we saw a second police car pull up behind the stranded Corvair. Shit. I jumped the fence and started to run behind Doug through a dark, large, grassy field where the the kids who went there probably played during lunchtime and recess. As we were running, both cop cars lit up the lights from the door posts on their cars and shined them towards us, into the field where we were attempting to sprint through. Both of us dove onto the water soaked grass, slid and didn’t move. Their lights shined pretty a long way, within a few feet of us. We just layed there motionless on our stomachs hoping we wouldn’t be seen…and that a helicopter wasn’t coming anytime soon.
After a few minutes, their lights turned off, and we got back up and ran. Both of us went our own ways. Neither of us were far from our homes. We both ended up going through a few different residential tracts and staying off the main streets to avoid being seen. Once I got back, my phone rang. Before I had a chance to change out of my wet fucking grass soaked/stained clothes, Doug had made it home and was calling me to see if I was able to do the same. I reminded him of what idiots he and Ryan were and he was totally cracking up. Hell, nobody was hurt or in jail, so I guess it was kinda funny after all. Doug then ended up getting into his Jeep and came back over to my place.
About an hour later, Ryan called too. He said that when he hit the curb on the freeway, it bent his left front rim and he ended up getting a flat tire. As luck would have it for him, he ended up making it to the next offramp on a flat tire with a bent rim and pulled into a shopping center where someone had left an IDENTICAL truck to his in the parking lot with a FOR SALE sign in the front window. Well, Ryan might not have had a spare tire, but he did have a jack and a tire iron. He ended up swapping one of the rims and tires from the truck in the parking lot with his tweaked one and was back in business. We laughed for the rest of the night about that. The guy who owned that truck was probably trippin pretty hard when he saw it the next day.
At about 10:30-11pm we had managed to to regroup at my place, pick up the herb and make it with plenty of time to Don Jose’s. Complete with a refreshed buzz, clean clothes, and a different ride we all fell out of Doug’s half-broken-down-and-several-months-late-in-registration Jeep in the parking lot while simultaneously filling Ryan full of completely false, inebriated confidence. We were still on a mission to get Ryan laid and damnit, we weren’t gonna be stopped.
We stumbled in and we were surprised to see such a large amount of people for such a small place. ‘Slav hit it off right away with one of Cathy’s friends and was gone. Next, Cathy ends up trying to stick me with the emotional leech of her best friend while Doug gets hooked up with a hot, yet total cunt of a bitch that couldn’t get over how great she looked. She’d be the first to tell you how hot she was too. Oh well…again, we’re here for a reason, we’re on a mission.
All of us ended up going our own ways. The woman I got stuck with wasn’t too bad once my buzz was increased and the beer goggles fit a little better. Her name was Becky. She was in her early 30’s and was sick of her husband who she married as a teenager and spoils the fuck out of her, but that wasn’t enough. She apparently ended up losing a lot of weight over the last year or two and all of a sudden had a new outlook on life, and on all the guys she wanted to fuck. I think she’d probably look ok even if I were sober too. I would have easily ended up banging her if she just would have shut up for EVEN A MINUTE, but it wasn’t happening. What started to be a somewhat promising handjob that she was attempting to give me underneath the table that we were sitting at was ruined by her never ending, annoying, pointless banter. Knowing that Ryan was now in the parking lot getting his groove on with Cathy in her minivan was enough to keep me tolerating all of it. What the hell. My beer is free, I’m getting wasted and I wasn’t arguing with this non-stop yapping bitch who was weakly trying to stroke my now flacid cock. Things could be worse.
Finally, Ryan and Cathy finish their business, came back inside hung out for a few. Becky decides to finally leave and now I gotta round up the other fuckers so I can get home too. ‘Slav and his chick were macking in the corner as the bartender was screaming out the last call for alcohol. ‘Slav finished up and got her number. Her and Cathy split and Ryan was ready to go. Doug was alone and what a sight he was…and this didn’t look good. Well, not if you had to clean it up anyway.
Apparently, Doug wasn’t as patient with his annoying chick as I was with mine. He had a few pitchers of beer and at some point, verbally chased her away. I don’t know what he said, but in the brief meeting I had with the cunt, I’m sure she deserved it. The problem with Doug though, is that as much as he loves beer, he’s allergic to the yeast inside of it, so whenever he drinks it, he barfs. What’s really cool is that he’s done this so much, he can control his vomit better than anyone I’ve ever met. In fact one time I saw the guy drink a beer, hold onto the empty bottle for a few minutes and refill it almost to the top with barf, controlling and metering it perfectly as he spit it back in the bottle to throw it away. Good times at parties for sure…what a rare talent….anyway, he was sitting by himself at a booth in the back of the place with at least 10 beer mugs, all filled to the rim with vomit and a pitcher about halfway filled the same way. It was bad ass.
He was sleeping face down on the table, passed out for who knows how long. Luckily for him, he didn’t move while he snoozed and didn’t spill any of his former stomach fillings onto himself, or anywhere else for that matter. ‘Slav had sobered up a bit and declared himself as our new driver. He was ready to leave. I could barely walk. Man, I was hammered. Together, Ryan and I basically carried Doug out the door as he dragged his feet. While we were walking, right before we got out, we heard an extremely pissed off waitress screaming all kinds of things at us for leaving the mugs of barf behind. I yelled back and told her that not a drop of it was spilled anywhere, so there was no mess to worry about and she should be glad it wasn’t all over the floor and table. We thought it was pretty funny. Too bad nobody who worked there agreed with our sense of humor. We were reminded several times, very rudely, about how we weren’t welcome back there ever again as we left. Needless to say, none of us lost any sleep over it.
The next day, Doug woke up and called me. He had a great time. I asked him what he was gonna do about his brothers Corvair. He said that he already had his brother call it in as stolen that morning. The cops told them that they had it in impound and to come pick it up. So Doug drove his brother down there, gave him the money to get it out and his brother drove the car home, no problem. Fucking classic. In the end, the night was a success. Ryan got laid as planned, nobody wound up in jail, Doug’s brother got the Corvair back and once that happened, “The Mission” was finally complete.