I did something really stupid once, I…never mind, I’ll tell you something stupid a friend of mine did.
When I was in college, I had a friend named Sid. (That’s not his real name. I haven’t had much contact with him in 10+ years, but just in case, I changed it.) We, and two of our friends, went to a party one night. Sid drove us in his mom’s Camaro with T-tops. We were ridin’ pretty high on the coolness scale that night.
All my friends were drinking at the party. I was designated driver, so I didn’t drink anything. The party was pretty lame when we got there and was maintaining that status, so we decided to leave early, around midnight.
I took out Sid’s mom’s keys to get in the car and he said he was sober enough to drive. I told him that I would drive. It was debatable how intoxicated he was, but I felt like we should be safe rather than sorry. So, I insisted on driving.
But he insisted on driving too.
We went back and forth until he finally relented (I probably said something like I’d sit on the curb all night before I’d let him drive me home with his sorry drunk self and he probably thought I was being a total b-word, but knew he would have felt guilty later, so I got my way.).
It was a 20-minute drive on the highway back to our houses and we were dancing in our seats to C+C Music Factory or Color Me Badd or some other really cool band like that. Then I guess Sid must have been feeling a little warm because he got this crazy idea to lift the passenger side T-top off his mom’s Camaro and pull it inside…while I was driving.
Driving south down I-395 outside of Washington, DC, wouldn’t you know that he started lifting that T-top off the roof and WHOOOOSH!!! That thing flew right out of his hands, behind the car like a bird in a tornado, fell to the road, and was left spinning circles on its glass top like a turtle on its back. Thank goodness the roads were mostly empty.
“Pull over! Pull over!” He screamed at me. I, dutifully, pulled over. (I’m crying from laughing so hard while typing this). He opened his car door and started running back down the highway. I looked through the rearview mirror and wanted to scream, “Run, Forrest, Run!” But the movie hadn’t come out yet; it was 1991. But that’s totally how I remember it.
The three of us sat in the car and laughed and laughed, in between saying, “Oh crap. His dad’s gonna kill him.” And then we laughed some more.
He ran-limped back toward the car as best he could, lugging that giant window with him. He shoved it in the trunk, got in, and I pulled back onto the highway. He immediately, and not with much love in his voice, told me how if he had been driving, this never would have happened.
I just thought, whatever, and I drove my sober self home.
Our friends were in the back, showing their empathy and support to Sid by saying, “Dude, that was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Big Papa’s gonna kill you.”
The next day he told his parents and had to get on a payment plan with them to have the window fixed. It was so scraped up you couldn’t see through it. For years, he still blamed me for that stupid window. I still think he was wrong. And I’m still laughing.
This is part of Finish The Sentence Friday.