A RARE PROLOGUE
"So what you're saying..." said the drunk undergrad earlier in the night,"is tha...if... if I was completely naked and all over you right now, you wouldn't fuck me... because I'm wasted?"
"Exactly," I whispered back in her ear. "But you can call me when you're sober."
"That's fucked up."
"Well, maybe, but women usually appreciate that one fucked-up thing more than the others..."
And with that she wandered off, disgusted, and started grinding her very fine ass into the crotch of some other guy.
OXFORD, Ohio (ZP) – So I found a drunk college girl passed out in the bed of my pickup last night.
Found is an understatement, actually - at a stoplight at three-thirty in the morning on a frigid Saturday, on my way home from the bars, I looked in my rear view mirror just as she knocked on the back glass of the cab from inside the camper shell.
So a zombie of drunk-ass, Oompa Loompa tan chick gave me a fucking horror-movie perfect scare, almost gave me a goddamn heart attack when she realized she'd passed out in a strange dude's truck WHILE the truck was moving...
That would be a way more appropriate way to start off this dispatch from the Rich White College Kid Holy Land.
You had to be there.
Better that you weren't, actually. I ended up gunning through the light by mistake, almost running into a government building in my rush to stop the truck.
* * * *
Poor kid was so wasted she could barely communicate anything beyond repeating that her friends had abandoned her and that she'd lost her purse.
Too drunk to explain coherently how she'd come to black out in my truck. Too drunk to provide me with any directions to get her home safely. Too drunk to give me any information beyond calling me Chad, apologizing for being too drunk, and telling me that she pissed herself.
So long story short...
I ended up adopting a petite, brunette, 19-year-old puppy for the night.
And no, not like that.
Please. For the last time now: I. DO. NOT. DO. BLACKOUT DRUNK GIRLS.
* * * *
Tough call, actually.
It was either give her a place to crash or drop her underage ass off with the Po-Po.
I chose the route that would get me in bed sooner rather than later, the route involving no paperwork, no questions about pressing charges or testifying-if-needed.
I helped homegirl to the passenger seat, drove home, and carried my impromptu boarder up a flight of stairs to my apartment. I laid her out on the kitchen table, positioned her head over the trashcan, gave her a blanket and a pillow.
And then I went to bed. Alone.
* * * *
When I got up at 11 o'clock, she was still there, snoring. She'd puked, missed the trashcan almost completely. Rather than wake her up - or eat my breakfast surrounded by the smell of vodka-tinted vomit - I went back to my bedroom, hopped on my new Ubuntu OS netbook, and surfed the web.
Eventually, I heard a thud in the kitchen, followed by a string of profanity and a call of Um...hello?
That, yes, was my cue to walk out and make an introduction to someone who, hopefully, got the shit scared out of her.
She was so embarrassed that she pretty much cleaned my apartment while waiting for her boyfriend to come fetch her.
Waiting for her boyfriend. In a strange older dude's apartment. After a night of drinking that she can't remember.
How'd ya like to be a fly on the wall in the ol' Fortress of Motherfucking Solitude for that knock at my door this morning...
* * * *
Like I said, long story. You just had to be there. And it's better that you weren't, really.
But the story probably wouldn't have ended as well had she passed out in some less honorable guy's pickup.
Oxford Fucking Ohio is, after all, a college town. And not everyone here is as honorable or ethical as certain sorta local blogebrity types...
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