Soy muy suerte, biotch!

3 Feb

I’m drinking cream soda. Whats up.

Thanksgiving break proved to be RATHER eventful. I officially have the best luck in the northern hemisphere. So on Friday night, Katie and I work til close which is 10 at Taco Juan’s. We start pre-gaming at work (kill two birds with one stone, boyeee) because there’s a shindig over at Jaimee “I have huge boobs and I go public” Friesen’s place. Katie and I go back to her house after work and consume multiple shots while watching Real World (p.s. there are several squealing fire trucks in front of Mayflower right now and it’s quite distracting. shut up, fire squad) for approximately an hour. We get sufficiently drunk and head over to J-Dawg’s. 12:08, I get inside. 12:09, hug a few people, get handed a beer. 12:10, I head downstairs & crack my beer open. 12:12, I take a picture with a guy who looked shockingly similar to Ashton Kutcher (we bumped uglies. no we didn’t), and take a sip of my beer. 12:16, the cops arrive.

Welcome!

People start yelling, “SHUT UP, SHUT UP THE COPS ARE HERE!” The majority of the crowd is far too shit-housed to give a damn that the po-po are in action and on the scene, so we just keep laughing and drinking, and I take my place behind a lamp post (I don’t know if I thought I was hiding or what) which probably had a diameter of 1.5 inches. Just an estimate. The cops come down stairs, and I make an executive decision to at least put my beer down. It wasn’t until I saw the cop, who by the way looked distinctively like Farva off Super Troopers, that I realized that I am what we refer to in America as “f’ed fo’sho.” Crap.

The cop orders us all to separate into opposite sides of the room: one side for people who admit to have been drinking, and the other side for people who claim to not have been. I turn around just in time to catch my loyal pal and partner in crime Katie McDermott slide a set of dressers out from the wall, tuck herself behind it, and pull it back into the corner. Those midgets…they can hide anywhere. Out of my confusion and drunkedness, a fine combination, I fail to move, and after everyone stops shuffling across the basement, I inquire to Jeremy Clouse what side of the room I was on. “We’re on the drinking side.” Awesome. I decide I’m f’ed regardless so I just hang out with the rest of the inebriated half. There are about 18 of us in the basement, and just as many upstairs with the other cop.

I don’t know if you know this about me, but I refuse to get an MIP under any circumstance. Farva starts preaching about what’s going to happen, and I discuss my escape options with Laurel. Laurel and I recognize that we’re screwed unless we get out of there somehow. We’re currently just sitting on the floor with the rest of the underage drunkasses in the room with the cop, failing to be proactive about the situation.

“Let’s just leave! Let’s just get up and leave, what are they gonna do?” Laurel poses a reasonable question, but simply walking away doesn’t seem like an effective maneuver to me at that point. I grow some balls (I got them removed later, don’t worry) and decide that I may as well give it a try. Laurel and I just get up and walk to the stairs. I glance up the stairway only to see the other cop in the room with the other herd of people. Laurel continues up the stairs, but I see an alternative option. I open a door at the bottom of the steps and find myself in a black abyss. I’m in some dark room that apparently has no light switch, so I quietly close the door and bust out the trusty cell phone. I discover that the room is full of nothing but coolers and holiday decorations, meaning nothing that I could hide in. So, I can either stand in the dark room and hope the cops don’t venture into it to join me, or just go back out and join the cop voluntarily.

Before I could make a decision, the door slowly opened. Fortunately it was just someone else like myself who was looking for a place to escape or at least hide. “You’re gonna get caught in here,” the kid says. Yeahhh…you’re right. Discouraged and out of ideas, I sluggishly wander back into the basement to join Farva and everyone else who’s receiving breathalizers. I peek over the top of the dresser at Midge who’s huddled like a potted plant in her little nook. I’m jealous. People are lining up at the door to take their breathalizers outside because apparently the alcohol level in the room itself was so high that it made the breathalizer take readings by itself. I was impressed.

I slump back onto the floor next to a few people. Farva turns around to make someone else blow, and I quickly scan the room. Behind me is a chest, no taller than 24 inches, that has blankets folded ontop of it and pillows stacked behind it. This is my chance.

I quickly crawl over to the chest and toss the pillows out from behind it. Darah looks at me with dismay. I give her the “please don’t say anything!!” look, and crawl behind the chest, covering myself with a blanket and hoping my hair wasn’t sticking out. Could this really work? I stayed curled up in the fetal position for TWO hours while I heard ticket after ticket be written out. My spine began to hurt QUITE badly. I also had to pee like a racing horse, seeing as I had yet to break the seal that night. It didn’t help that people kept being funny and calling the cop Farva to his face the entire time, either. For example, Jeremy asked the cop if he had the highest BAC at 0.106. Turns out he had 2nd highest to Jaimee herself who scored a .111. The cop goes, “Second at .106….Congratulations.” hahaha. If I had gotten found because I chuckled in my little hiding place, I would have slapped myself.

Twice.

All this time passes and I begin to realize that my hiding place might ACTUALLY work. I’m pleased, but I have to pee SO bad, and I imagine that I have developed rheumatic arthritis in the back region by now. I hear the last few people get sent upstairs to get rides home, and the other cop joins Farva downstairs. They chat for a bit and start discussing whether they should try to get rid of the alcohol that’s in the basement. I hear shuffling around and breathing, but I don’t dare move until I’m POSITIVE that they have left, and I hope that Katie remains perfectly still also. I wouldn’t put it past those sneaky snakes to pretend to be gone just to catch those of us who wittingly evaded them and popped out later to escape.

A few minutes go by, and Jaimee and a couple others come downstairs and yell, “Is anyone else down here??” I decide it’s safe to come out of hiding. Katie and I pop out, and people are so confused as to where we had hidden and how we did it, especially myself since I hid IN FRONT of the cop, while he was in the room and after he had already seen and spoken to me. Sweeeeet. The really funny part came next. Midge and I glance next to the couch, and underneath a rather large beanbag/Love Sac is a pair of feet up past the ankles. Wow.

Are you kidding me?? We pull the beanbag off to find a kid in a yellow t-shirt just hanging out. His feet were literally hanging out a good 12 inches. The cops HAD to have seen this guy. I don’t even know what to say about it. It was ridiculous, plain and simple. I scan the premises. There is SO much alcohol everywhere. Every surface area including TVs, tables, chairs, and ledges were completely covered in cans and bottles. Big wow. Anyway, this is a novel, but a damn good one, and the bottom line is that we got away, and it freakin rocks.

Hiding is never a bad option.

“Let’s get naked and make poor decisions!”

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