Some cops kick massive amounts of ass.

3 Feb


So…I just awoke from my period of passed-out-ness. Of course I was greeted immediately NOT by a cheerful roommate but instead a ferocious headache. My brain feels like a gorilla fight. I guess I’m having Tylenol and water for breakfast again. What’s the nutritional value of ibuprofen?

Anyway, last night I went to a party at the infamous “JB and Jeremy’s” apartment, and now I know why everyone goes there. Hahah…oh my. I got quite drunk and had a great time. We’ll fast forward a bit…I get there, begin to consume beer at a godspeed pace—>>>Johnny, Chris and Austin have finally arrived, and I have to meet them outside on a street corner. So I wander out there with my beer that is spilling over with every very wobbly step that I take. At this point I realize the magnitude of my drunkedness, which is nothing to sneeze at. I was laughing at how drunk I was at that point. Anyway, I walk out onto the main street, and some other guy suggests that it’s probably a bad idea to have my beer out in the open and in my hand for the world to see. Of course I disregard his friendly advice and keep on keepin’ on. I see Johnny and the gang about a block away and yell to them, until suddenly everybody goes, “Oh shit, act cool guys,” and a see a cop car turn the corner in our direction.


My decision-making skills at this point are less than effective, so I turn around in a circle, orient myself, and decide to “casually” walk (which was actually an unbalanced EXTREME speed walk that was totally obvious and less than attractive) back down that little alley toward the apartment. The cop turns into the alley and drives along side me very slowly. I still have my beer in my hand. I stop and look at him. He goes, “Hey. Whatya doin??” “…Uhh…nothin?” (cue large smile that says ‘Yeahh you caught me, but I’m sweet, gimme a break’). The cop looks at my beer and goes, “Well…I bet you have somethin better to do than drink beer on a Friday night, huh?” My immediate and honest answer would have been ‘hell no, do I look like a checkers player?’ but instead I said, “Yeahhhh, you’re right.” He goes, “Why don’t you just dump that out.” “Good idea.” I dump it out. Then he says, “And you might wanna get rid of that cup, too.” “You’re right.” I toss the cup into a window well four feet in front of me. He goes, “Alright, welp, have a good night!” I couldn’t believe it. What a sweet ass guy. Technically I should have gotten a citation for underage drinking, public intox, AND littering. The awkward part happened next. So I’m standing along side the cop in the cop car in the alley, but I need to go back the way I was going in the first place to meet up with the guys. The cop also needs to back out of the alley and get back on the main street. So he starts reversing very slowly, and I start walking that same direction slow enough to look like I’m not totally hammered, so we’re moving at the exact same pace next to each other.


Hahahaha…I look over at him while we’re both still in motion, and go, “…This is awkward that we’re both going the same pace. Uhh…haha,” He chuckles and agrees, and goes on his merry way. My luck is so good sometimes.

Knock on wood. Lots of wood.

After that I finally get the group of guys, fish my cup out of the window well and continue to fill it up with muchas cervezas for the rest of the night.

That’s the first half of the night. The second half of the night was not so fortunate. So I’ve been plastered for a couple hours, and I’m getting in the mood to go back to the dorm, eat a Spaghettio’s sandwich, and pass the F out. I alert Tomas that whenever he’s going back to get me so I wasn’t alone on the grueling streets of Iowa City. He agrees and says he just has one more beer to finish. I glance at my phone and conclude that we have approximately 40 minutes to make it to the bus stop by 2 a.m. so we don’t have to voyage fifteen hundred miles across the United States to get to Mayflower. Forever goes by (which in reality was probably less than ten minutes, but drunk time knows no boundaries) and I decide that Tomas is moving far too slowly. I make an executive decision to head out, whether it be by myself or not.

I exit the apartment building and see two guys that I had befriended earlier in the night. I did not remember their names. Anyway, I ask them to direct me toward Iowa Ave. so I can make it to the bus stop. They give me some vague directions–it was more of a diagonal point and a, “if you keep walking you should hit a street you know and you’re set.” That wasn’t too helpful but I was feeling confident and super hungry, so I hit the road.

I start walking a few blocks west (or what I thought was west–at that point I couldn’t have told you Kehly from a hippopotamus. Then again I can’t normally either. Just kidding Kehly) and then decide I should “save time” by walking diagonally instead of straight west and then straight north; you know, cut corners if you will. At this point I’m realizing how utterly alone I am. Despite the fact that I didn’t know what direction to walk in, I started walking faster, thus realizing how unbalanced I was. It was laughable. I could NOT walk in a straight, or even squiggly line. My BAC must have been a solid .2 at least.

I come to “Muscatine” and some street that didn’t have a name or even a distinct corner. It was some random ass curve that connected to it. I keep forging forward, trusting that I HAD to run into a street I knew sooner or later.

I didn’t.

I finally ended up on “Court” and like “5th” or something. I was in unchartered territory, otherwise known as “f’ed.” I sit on a street corner and call 500 people. Finally Johnny decides there’s no way in hell I’ll make it out alive, which was an accurate assumption, and drives around to find my sorry ass. He does and I return safely to Mayflower where I consume a lot of food and pass out.

The end.



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