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May 12, 2005
Bussed to the Party
There were occassions, even before I got the death-trap that was my first car, that I wanted to get out of town. Without any way of my own to get around I opted for the bus.
The first few times I rode the bus I avoided even eye contact everybody. I didn't want to be bothered by the other passengers I had no interest in meeting. After a few trips, however, my outlook changed. I was struck by the --well, oddities, I guess -- that rode the bus with me. The guy with the bald scabby head that constantly jerks his hands in front of him and tries so hard to keep from blurting out what sounds like, "seven." (Or could it be "satan?") The couple in matching Aerosmith t-shirts that can't keep making that disgusting
sucking noise during their perpetual kiss. The obese woman that keeps feeding kibbles to the dog she snuck in inside her carry-on bag.
As much fun as it was watching the people on the bus they were not my main interest. My main interest lay at my destination. When I took the bus I was usually going from Chicago to spend the weekend hanging out with my brother and my friend Josh in such style that when all was said and done none of us would remember any of what happened.
By and large we were successful, too.
I was usually met at the bus stop and ushered back to a dorm room where heavy drinking would commence. Then we would stumble off to a party, usually in someone's basement. There I would either spend my time leaning on the ubiquitous keg or wander around the party sing Van Morrison songs in a faux accent.
I remember one weekend -- and yes, I admit, remembering means I failed in my mission -- I met a girl that I recognized, even through my beer goggles, as hot. Or maybe it was because of my beer goggles. Either way, at the time I thought she was hot so I pulled out all the stops on my use of drunken, cheesy pick-up lines. To my surprise she reciprocated. She even seemed charmed by the drunken conversation.
We talked for a while and I found out she lived in Chicago and was going to be there the next weekend. We decided to meet up then. I needed her number. So when I saw my friend Josh come by I told him to go get me paper and a pen which he came back a while later.
I got the girl's number and the three of us chatted for a few minutes until she had to leave with her friend. Josh and I stayed only to find out that the girls had most likely left because the keg was tapped.
I remember leaving. Sort of. What I clearly remember next was waking up hungover.
Bleary-eyed we hypothesized how exactly we got home. A rather short conversation that quickly moved to what we remembered of the night before.
"Dude. You got that girl's number."
"Oh yeah. She was hot."
"Yeah."
"Where'd I put it?" I checked my pants and found a pieces of paper folded up. "Here it is."
I unfolded the paper and found two numbers one in Madison, WI, where we were, and one in Chicago. "She gave me both numbers."
"Awesome. When are you going to call her."
"I don't know. I've got to before next week. We were supposed to meet up. She lives near my school."
"That's cool."
"Yeah. -- Do you remember her name?"
"No. Didn't she put it on there?"
"No."
"You sure? They usually do."
"I don't see it."
"Maybe on the other side."
I unfolded the paper and found a name. The name was next to another number. "Who's this?"
"Who?"
"Sarah?"
"I don't know."
"You didn't get this number?"
"No. I never touched the paper."
"I didn't get any other number."
"You were talking to that other girl."
"What other girl?"
"Sarah, I guess."
"I don't remember that. Was she hot?"
"I think the other girl was hotter."
"What's her name though?"
"I don't know. Just call."
"But what if I get her roommate? Who am I supposed to ask for?"
We both tried as hard as we could to remember the girl's name, but we came up with nothing. In order to an awkward conversation I never called, but about a month later my brother called me up. Both of us were bored so we talked for quite a while.
"Oh, yeah. Jen says .'hi.'"
"Who's Jen?"
"A girl that lives in my dorm."
"So? Do I know her?"
"I guess. She said she met you at a party."
"Ok. I've met lots of people at parties."
"Yeah, but you were supposed to go out with her."
"Wait. Is she hot? Long dark hair? Hispanic, maybe?"
"Yeah. Jen."
"Shit. I should have just called. They're all named Jen."
"What?"
I explained about meeting her at the party but forgetting her name and never calling.
"Why didn't you ask Josh?"
"I did. Neither of us could remember her name."
"He knows her."
"No, he doesn't"
"Yeah he does. Like three months ago I walked into my room and they were making out on my couch."
"What?"
"Yeah. It was fucked up. My roommate wasn't here. I just got from class and he and Jen were making out on my couch."
"So he met her before but he was so drunk he couldn't remember her name?"
"Or maybe he never knew it."
Posted by calculatoronfire at May 12, 2005 06:46 PM
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