My Bad Weekend (very long, bring a sandwich)

[86 IROC-Z]

So Friday afternoon me and some buddies decided to hit up a couple different parties around town. We have a couple beers at our place and at around 5 or so we head out to the first, this outdoor bbq sort of deal in someones backyard.

The place is pretty sweet. They have an open bar sort of thing put together around back, along with a couple of kegs, and 3 or 4 pickup trucks with tarps & water in the beds to make little pools or hot tubs or whatever. Some bangin chicks in them, that's for sure. Anyway so one of my buddies and I jump in on a beer pong table. Apparently the guys we're facing haven't lost yet. I'm not a pro but I can hold my own, so I figure we'll do pretty well. No. We lose terribly. My friend didn't make ANY cups at all, and I only made 3 (10-cup). So that gave us a pretty good buzz. I was pissed so moved over to get some liquor from the bar. I think I got some vodka, or rum maybe; either way it was pretty bad. The bartender was cute so I stuck around for some more but she wasn't interested in talking with me. Whatever bitch.

I start wandering around and go inside the house. There are some random dudes dicking around with a drum set, guitar, bass, mic, etc. They weren't very good. It smelled strongly of weed inside the house. I found the bathroom inadvertently, but then realized I had to piss anyway so it was all good. I come out the house, starting to feel the vodka hit me. My friends yell to me. They decided we're going to the next party. We get in my friends SUV and head out.

We reach our next destination at about 8pm I guess. This party was at an apartment on the 9th floor of the complex. I was complaining about climbing the stairs, but when I realized the music I heard on the 5th floor was coming from our 9th floor party, it put me in a better mood.

The four of us come in through the front door to find this party was some sort of rave deal, or at least was in that theme. It was ballin. Ear-bleeding music, all sorts of strobe/black/laser/globe lighting and effects etc, scantily clad co-eds and of course more alcohol. This cute 7 comes up to me with a frosty bottle of Jager and offers me some; I ask if she's an angel. I throw back some of that blackness and we go dance. A while later the music cuts out, everyone is like "wtf?" Then someone yells "COPS!!!" And I'm like lol what is this high school? So what? But then I noticed that most people there were underage, and I didn't want to get stuck with some providing for minors bullshit, so I considered what to do. I went out on the balcony and looked down. Fuck me. I look up in the sky and have an odd drunk moment in wonder of the universe (It was a clear night). I go back inside and apparently the cops were only there to tell us to turn down the music, and had already left. So I start looking around for Jager girl.


That's it. It stops there. I, for the life of me, cannot remember ANYTHING else. At all.

Fast-forward to Saturday morning.


I wake up. These are my thoughts that occurred, in order, as I awoke:

1. Ugh my fucking head. It's splitting.
2. I'm cold.
3. I'm cold because it's cold outside, and I was outside.


I get up with a start. I'm outside. Why the FUCK am I outside. I'm on a bench. I'm on a bench on a walkway in front of a big fucking river. I mean huge. This does not look familiar at all.

I realize why I'm cold: I have no shirt on and no shoes. Just my jeans. On further inspection I realize I'm missing my underwear as well. I check my pockets. I have $66, mostly in ones (the fuck?). I also have a piece of paper with 3 phone numbers written on it, none of which I recognize and none of which have any other indication of who they might belong to. No cellphone, no wallet, no keys. I stop to gather my thoughts. Even battling past my headache, I still can only find a feeling of emptiness, of just being lost. I check myself for wounds, thankfully I have none, which was somewhat surprising given my situation.

A jogger approaches. I wave him over. He looks at me oddly and says good morning. I ask him where I am. He says I'm at the park. I ask him what city. His expression becomes even more perplexed and replies "Augusta....". Fuck.

I didn't mention this before, but I started my previous night in Athens, where I reside. I know Athens well, and would know my way around probably regardless of where I woke up. Augusta, on the other hand, I have never been to before, not to mention it's TWO FUCKING HOURS AWAY FROM ATHENS.

I thank the man and he goes on his way. I review the contents of my pockets again and make a plan. I head over to a nearby row of stores. I glance to ensure there aren't any "No shirt... no service" signs (there aren't) and head inside. More odd looks from employees and customers alike. I find the cheapest flip flops and shirt. I pay for them at the checkout, and then put them on right there and walk out. I spy a payphone and use my change on all three numbers from my pocket. No response from any of them. Not even a voice mail box. I grab the phone book from the cubby under the phone and start looking for taxis. It took me about 15 attempts before I was able to find a ride back to Athens that I could afford with the money I had on me.

The cab arrives. Exchange some very small talk with the driver and we get on our way. Two hours of watching fields fly by. We finally get back to Athens, specifically my apartment complex. I pay the driver, begin to get out and he tells me to wait. He gives me back my money and says (In a some sort of Jamaican, maybe African accent) "keep it mon, I've seen people have bad days and I know you've been having it more bad than all of em"[sic]. I agree and thank him greatly, and we part ways. I get to my front porch, and my north face has been neatly folded and left by the door. I'm grateful because I assume I had lost it along with everything else. However, still nothing that would help me deduce what exactly the fuck happened the previous night. I try the front door, thankfully its not locked. I get inside and it smells like weed. This is normal.

What does surprise me, though, is that the furniture had been moved slightly, and there was an odd impression leading through the carpet towards my room. I figure its just the result of rambunctious drunks, nothing is damaged so I don't mind at all. I go through and try to open my door. Locked. I roll my eyes and go back to the kitchen to get my spare key: A butter knife. Great security, amirite? Anyway, after fiddling with that in the crack for a few seconds, the door opens, and I walk in. An odd smell hits me as I walk in. Not bad or anything, just something that you wouldn't expect in a bedroom, and I just couldn't place it.



That's when I saw it. The bike.


I'm not talking a 10-speed huffy here. There was a legit, bright fucking red, 600cc fucking sports bike. In my motherfucking bedroom. I don't recognize the bike. It's not mine. I don't even know how to ride a motorcycle. None of my friends have one like it. Shit, none of my friends have a sports bike at all. I just stood there staring at it.

I go out of my room. Stare at myself in the bathroom mirror for a bit. I look like shit. Then I look for my roommates. No one is home.

I go back to my room. It wasn't my imagination. The bike was still there. No only was it in my room, but it was also positioned between the far side of my bed and the wall, which would have required about a 10 point turn to achieve.

I approach the bike. That smell when I walked in? You average engine/fluids smell. There's a note taped to the bike (made with office supplies grabbed from my own desk in the room). It read:

"Dude! Your fuckin INSANE!! we definitaly need to chill again. heres your bike, we thought it might get stolen in the parking lot so we put it in your room"

And that's it. It wasn't signed, so I'm still clueless. No, at this point, I'm even more clueless than when I started. I'm going backwards. I'm trying to figure out what happened yet I just keep understanding less and less.

I look over to my bed. I see a lone plastic grocery bag on it. Another note that read:

"Hey man, great times last night, here's all your stuff, couldn't find you so I just dropped it off here.
-Justin


P.S. When did you get a bike?"





The following errors occurred with your submission:
1. The text that you have entered is too long (16519 characters). Please shorten it to 10000 characters long.

[86 IROC-Z]

The contents of the bag were as follows:
1. My shirt
2. My phone
3. My wallet
4. My keys
5. another set of keys
6. another cellphone
7. a pack of gum
8. a roll of toilet paper
9. and a third fucking cellphone

The first four items are mine. The last five, I have no idea. Not mine, don't recognize them as my friends, nothing.

I'm still curious as to what happened to my shoes and underwear, but whatever. I have the important stuff. I can't be arsed to deal with all this shit I apparently acquired, the bike and that other miscellaneous crap, so I just sit down to chill. I check my cell phone. A million new numbers dialed, missed, and received from it between 9pm and 3am. No names saved to the numbers, no texts, no voice messages. Then I log on to Facebook. What better place to find proof that I didn't completely fall off the face of the earth last night? After a few minutes of looking around, I come up empty handed. I supposed it's because I awoke on that bench around 8am, which makes it about 11am on a Saturday morning at this point. Most likely everyone I saw last night is still fast asleep. Or fast passed-out. Unconscious, nonetheless. So in a somewhat defeated state, I just start watching TV.

My phone rings.

I pick it up, hoping it's someone who can tell me useful information. Alas, the caller ID reveals it to be a friend who was not with me the previous night (At least... as far as I know). So I answer it.

"Yo man, we're gonna go drinking with friends, come with us."

My head still hurts from what I hope is a hang over, opposed to an injury. What better way to answer "alcohol" to the problem of alcohol, amirite?

"Alright sure man. When and where?" I asked.

"Awesome. Tennessee. We leave in 30 minutes so we can get there by five."

FFUUUUUUUUU-

"You're kidding"

"Problem?"

I consider what happened so far (for the tenth time already today).

"Fuck it, I'm in."

30 minutes later I grab my backpack, squeeze my 6 pack of XX into the top among all the other contents, and head out the door.


The story up to this point was told to my friends during the 4 hour drive up to our friends in Tennessee. They were greatly amused. To me, it just keeps sounding more and more ridiculous.


We finally arrive. Our first stop is at a liquor store to get some Jager and bottom-shelf vodka. Our next stop is a gas station to get a case of cheap beer, because for some cool reason Tennessee decides that you can't sell alcohol and alcohol in the same place. Makes sense to me. We get to our friends place. They have been drinking since noon. I think to myself that I shouldn't have stopped at all since last night.
We break out our jager and do a celabatory shot for our arrival.
And then another for our friends birthday.
And then another for good friends.
And then another, for which we couldn't be bothered to think of a reason. We're chasing with natty light, which isn't as helpful as we hoped. I actually only know three people there. All the rest I'm introduced to. Some of the girls are really cute. I'm excited.

We drink some more, and then we start walking around to different frat houses for parties. We spend at least 20 or 30 minutes at each one. The cops are at each one. Always a pair, always full uniform/on duty, and always laughing and socializing with us (Us as in, any and every one at the party). This puts me in an even better mood. They were actually really cool guys. I wish we had cops like that in our town.

After visiting five or six houses, we end up back at our friends place. Time to go out. We go to this Mexican place, there are about 15 of us or so. My friend orders us out-of-towners these massive margaritas (Half a pitcher in each glass). I fucking hate tequila. I start drinking it fast. We have the flat screen changed to the Alabama Tennessee game. We, the guys I came with, are from Athens. Tennessee killed us two weeks ago. We start cheering for Alabama. We are in Tennessee, drunk, and cheering for the opponents of one of their universities football teams. Odd looks ensue. Alabama blocks the field goal attempt at the last second of the game, winning it. We go ballistic in a sea of disappointed Tennessee fans. Drunkenly ballistic. I'm surprised we survived untouched. Now that the game was over, one of our friends hooked up their ipod to the sound system of the place, and we were listening to that. My friend noticed I had finished my margarita, and secretly ordered me another. The waiter sets it down in front of me and immediately all I can say is "oh fucking god damn." I start to drink it. It's around this time a group of attractive yet bitchy looking girls stroll in to our section of the place and take a table.

Shortly after they arrived, they walked up to the sound system, unplugged our ipod, plugged in theirs, and started playing some bullshit. Bulllllllshit is what it was. I'm pissed. I start to get up but my friend pulls me down and says its fine, let them be. So I dealt with it and continued to have a great time there.


Until the bitch turned it to Miley Cyrus.


I was out of my chair before my friend could react. I went up to her and asked wtf she was doing. She replied, "It's my 19th birthday I can do what I want." I'm even more pissed now.

"19TH BIRTHDAY? 19TH BIRTHDAY? GO TO FUCKING CHUCKIE CHEESES AND STOP FUCKING WITH MY MUSIC!!"

At this point my friend runs over to mediate before I get thrown out, or worse. We come to a resolution as she changed it to something I liked and agreed not to play, as I put it, "Anything that sucks." I return to my margarita. I start talking to two of the cutest girls at our table. One has mannerisms similar to boxxy and the other has something about her that reminded me of the tabby girl. I'm in love.


And here in again, I cannot recall past this point. I apparently was still active hours longer than this according to my friends.

So again, fast-forward to Sunday morning.

I wake up. Here again is my chronological thoughts upon waking:

1. Aaaaahh my fucking head. Fuck. Oh well.
2. My clothes are missing again.
3. I'm not cold. This is an upgrade from the previous morning.
4. Fuck, again I can't remember what happened.
5. Fuck why do my lungs hurt.
6. Oh right, I remember smoking cloves. Why the fuck did I do that, I don't even smoke.
7. At least I found a bed this time.
8. I guess this bed belongs to the girl sleeping next to me.
9. Tabby girl naked in bed next to me.
10. Yesssssss

At this point my penor took over and I woke her up. Ever cautious, my penor told me to find a condom. I find my pants, retrieve my wallet to get my condom out of it. It's not there anymore. Yesssssss.

I go outside the room, and I realize I'm in my friends house. I start looking for my backpack (more condoms). As I'm wandering around, I realize: I feel like I'm in American Pie, or some other teenage comedy movie. I'm walking around a sorority house, almost naked, with my frank and beans poking out my boxers. I laugh.

I get back to the girl. I wake her, I fuck her, I fall asleep. Later I wake up again. One of the girls has cooked breakfast to the max. I'm happy. My friends and I eat, say our goodbyes, and hit the road. We tell stories of the night to each other. This helps me better remember my own stories.

A few hours later I'm walking into my apartment. I take off my jacket. It badly needs to be washed. It had many things spilled on it, including but not limited to alcohol (in order: jager, natural light, dos equis, margarita, some fruity shit and I think some wine), whipped cream, blood, some foamy upholstery cleaner (which, although it happened inadvertently, if anything, it probably helped), and other unknown textures which were respectively sticky and crusty. I empty the pockets: my keys, receipts, numbers, bottle caps, rocks (the fuck?), and other random shit.

I toss that in the washer. I walk in my bedroom. That fucking bike is still here. I lay down on my bed, pleased that although odd, I had an excellent time, all the way through. It was an experience.

My fucking weekend.

[cammed goat]

Jeesh!!!

[cant.b.caught.z28]

Classic

[tallnick]

Tucker Max is that you?


It was actually a decent read for the size..

[redbird555]

Can I have the bike

[brendan.9]

hahaha wow that's like a fucking movie that's awsome i love it haha well you can run the plates in the bike to find the owner and if not sell it. or take it out and drive the shit out of it

[86 IROC-Z]

Tucker Max is that you?


It was actually a decent read for the size..

I started reading Tucker Max as well as Maddox at a young age, and I love both of them. I wouldn't be surprised if they had an effect on my writing style. If anything, I would be pleased.

[86 IROC-Z]

hahaha wow that's like a fucking movie that's awsome i love it haha well you can run the plates in the bike to find the owner and if not sell it. or take it out and drive the shit out of it

Yeah no joke. I have no fucking clue what the hell I'm gonna do with it. I guess I'll call the cops tomorrow morning and explain the situation.

[Transamws6]

Take the bike out man. Don't let it just sit there.

[Y2KPewterSS]

Cliff notes?

[chuckie669]

That's damn entertaining. You have some writing skills. I'm just glad it didn't end with the fresh prince theme song.

[tallnick]

I started reading Tucker Max as well as Maddox at a young age, and I love both of them. I wouldn't be surprised if they had an effect on my writing style. If anything, I would be pleased.

I could see that in your writing style.. and you were just down the road from me this weekend.. well saturday night..

[Pony_Eater]

soooo.......wtf you gonna do with the bike you jacked? lol...o ya and pics or it didnt happen with the chick! lol

[Red97GTP]

i really thought this story was gonna end with you living with your aunt and uncle in belaire.

[camarolvr69]

Man that made my day. Fuckin epic. Should make a movie lol

Reminds me of the movie the "Hangover".

O and you finally got your boxxy chick so guess there wont be anymore "scene girl threads" for a while lmao

[86 IROC-Z]

Cliff notes?

I drank
I passed out
I woke up
I didn't remember a lot
I went home
I have a bike
I drank
I passed out
I woke up
I didn't remember a lot
I went home

soooo.......wtf you gonna do with the bike you jacked? lol...o ya and pics or it didnt happen with the chick! lol

I'll look for pics. I don't have a camera and I'm not friends on facebook with any of the people I met yet, but I'll do what I can.

That's damn entertaining. You have some writing skills. I'm just glad it didn't end with the fresh prince theme song.

i really thought this story was gonna end with you living with your aunt and uncle in belaire.

Bel air is for fake copypasta. Funny in those instances, but if I personally write something I generally try not to end it with a lame pun, usually because it doesn't need it.

[310stanger]

what kind of bike?

[Frazier]

You need to write a book. Or atleast make threads like this more often.

[86 IROC-Z]

what kind of bike?

Honda F4somethingorother. I don't have keys to it either.