My name is not important. I’m a regular guy, like you and the people that you know. Only with two big exceptions. 1) I possess more ruggedly handsome features than you and 2) Although I’m a generally intelligent person, I tend not to put a lot of thought into my actions, which inevitably leads to getting myself into some pretty weird and sometimes frightening situations. Join me on my journey, where I take you through my misadventures as a guide of 1,001 things not to do.
This next story takes place during the summer sandwiched between my freshman and sophomore year of college. I was living in my parents’ house in Chapel Hill that summer, doing pretty much nothing aside from the occasional track workout to keep in shape for the team and the much more frequent all night drinking sessions that had my parents placing bets on what age I was going to die.
It was a typical night, as I sat there plopped in front of the television with my little brother, who was still in high school at the time. I was eyeing my dad’s wine collection, trying to decide which bottle would be least noticeable if it happened to be missing the next morning. Then I got a call on my cell phone. I picked it up and saw that it was my good friend Tim (refer to “Party Fouls” for background on him) calling. He was nice enough to give me twenty minutes notice that he was coming to pick me up for a weekend trip to Wilmington, a nice beach town about three hours away on the coast of North Carolina.
I try to decline, but I know that it’s of no use. Two girls are tagging along as well and he’s never going to let me hear the end of it if he gets stuck watching Oprah and gossipping about whether or not some random girl at the bar’s jeans make her butt look fat or not all weekend.
I hang up and start packing… Some jeans and a shirt nice enough to not induce girls throwing me spare change when I approach them? Check. Two bottles from my dad’s wine collection? Check. And I even decide to let my new friends in on a new hobby of mine just to show them how cool I was becoming….cigarrettes. What can I say? I’m a generous fella.
Before I know it, I hear Tim’s horn blaring, announcing his presence. It’s almost midnight and my parents understandably weren’t big fans of his actions and yell at me to hurry and shut him up before I’m never again welcome in their home. I open the door, bag in hand, ready for a weekend full of adventures at the beach. I say farewell to my brother, who predictably tells me that he hopes I die in a car crash on the way there, and I’m off.
I make my way to Tim’s jeep and hop in, introducing myself to the fine, young ladies in the vehicle. I had met Diana once or twice before (she’s also included in “Party Fouls”), but the other girl was unfamiliar to me. I learned that her name was Annie and that she graduated from the same high school as I had the year after.
Now I know what you’re thinking. Two guys, two girls. You probably think that it’s gonna be hook up central when we get there. But at the time, I was pretty into this one girl I’d been talking to in town. We’d only known each other since the beginning of the summer and our relationship only spanned about the course of a month, but that’s actually (and this still holds true at my current age of 25) a remarkably long time for me to be seeing a woman without some sort of relationship-ending fallout.
So I was going on this trip with no intentions of trying anything funny with either of these girls. Continue reading