“I’ll Eat Later”
I was graduating from university and so were a lot of my friends. One of them had a graduation party that we were going to that evening but I mixed up the ’start time’ – I thought it began later in the evening than it actually did. I was still lounging around in my underpants when my boyfriend came home and was like ” You have to get ready! We have to go!” Unfortunately I didn’t have dinner and I was hungry. I figured there would snacks there or I could go get a slice of pizza or something later, no worries.
We get to the party and it is PACKED. They are only serving one drink: vodka soda. Well, I guess it could be 3: vodka, soda or vodka soda but needless to say all of the drinks looked the same and most everyone opted for the ‘alcohol in’ option including, of course, unfed me. As the evening wears on I’m having a lot of fun, have forgotten about wanting to eat and have had no idea which drink is/was mine, for the past few hours. I was probably drinking out of 15 different glasses because I’m classy like that and like to put my drink down and then pretend I can identify it by the unique shape the squeezed lime has assumed. Don’t judge me.
So it’s about midnight at this point and I am wastedddd. I especially realize this when the BF, who is equally wasted wants to go to the bar in between where we currently are and home which is fine except when we get there they wont let him in because its past last call. He starts arguing with the bouncer saying he can see his friends and just wants to go in and say hi but the bouncer isn’t budging. I’m not sure who pushed who first because at this point I had snuck to the side of the building after getting the ‘I am about to be sick hiccups’ and was proceeding to vomit up my entire liquid dinner. Out of the corner of my eye I see my boyfriend fleeing down the street being pursued by the 2 fattest cops I have ever seen in my entire life and the bouncer kind of… lying on the bottom steps of his bar.
Oh no. The BF stopped running as they were yelling “police!!” at him and brought him back to the scene where about 4 other cops have arrived and proceeded to arrest him. Then I notice that all 5 cops are from our university, which is located about 2 blocks away and they are specifically employed so that little naughty rich bitch students from our school don’t get arrested. Unless they’re really obnoxious apparently as the arrest was totally happening as BF had bopped the bouncer in the side of the head without noticing that he was surrounded by police men.
I was standing there hiccuping. I’m pretty sure I had vomit on my flesh colored dress and the cops are asking me too many questions “ma’am – are you driving yourself home?”
Me: “Hahaha — fuck no”
Cop:” MA’AM?”
Me: “No. No.”
Cop: “Ma’am – have you been drinking?”
Me: [wiping sides of mouth and subtly breath checking] “Uh… yes. just a little! I’m graduating from Rich Bitch University.” (Subtle hint that I am the students that you are supposed to protect! I’m too drunk to think if I’m actually committing an arrestable offense in the moment but please don’t arrest me!)
The BF starts struggling in his cuffs right now so all the attention turns back to him but apparently he is just dancing. They let him give me his personal items like wallet and sweater and some of my friends drive me back to our place in his car, which I proceed to throw up on the passengers door as were going home. My friends crash in our bed together and I sleep on the couch in the adjoining living room. Sleep is a bad word. I pass the FUCK out on the couch in the living room. Around 7.20 in the morning my phone – which is some how like, stuck to my face, wakes me up. I have 43 missed calls and like 24 voice mails. The BF apparently managed to sneak his mobile phone (later I found out that he put it in the front of his underpants) into the jail cell and has been calling me all night. He is angry. and wants to be bailed out. He was charged with a misdemeanor. I get in the car. I never threw up in it (THANK GOD), just on the outside, and go to the courthouse and who is walking in at the same time I am? BF’s criminal lawyer daddy. I guess I wasn’t the only one he called that night. I am still wearing last nights clothes, make up and stomach contents and make awkward hellos and eye contact but feel like I win because I’m just dating someone that’s in jail while he’s the dad, as in poor parenting on his part/lack of genetic responsibility on mine.
The BF gets bailed, I drive us home where we go back to sleep until its dinner time and I finally eat, 24+ hours too late. BF tells me about his time in jail — and no, he didn’t get butt raped, I asked. He probably would have bopped them in the head anyways.
Fast forward 2 weeks the BF and I are employed for the summer at a children’s wilderness camp in the mountains and have to go get fingerprinted, as the law requires, because were working with kiddos. And guess where we have to go to get inked?! Yes. The same place he was arrested and I showed up beautiful to get him out 2 weeks ago. The same office people who directed me to the holding cells is the one directing us upstairs to the fingerprinting place. Awesome.
I don’t think I made eye contact once in that entire building, BF grinned like a madman the entire time, failing to appreciate the forensic reversal – or maybe grinning because he appreciated it too much.
- Submitted by Drunken Debbie
Image via flickr NikWatt
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