Red, White and Blow

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just one of the many stories on my website www.betteroffnotknowing.com

Submitted: January 03, 2012

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Submitted: January 03, 2012

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I’m not one to tell anybody how to live their life, but here is one bit of advice I would like to share: Don’t ever drink an entire bottle of 151 in two blenderfuls of strawberry daiquiris. They really should not even make that demon water anymore. Bacardi 151 rum is some harsh shit when it’s properly abused. OK, I’m done with my public service announcement. Now on with the show!

Kyle and I were going to a party at the house of this really cute girl I worked with. She was 21 and a cheerleader at the local university. Kyle and I were 18, and wanting to bang girls who were 21 and cheerleaders at the local university. Hey, what are the odds?

Anyway, we figured we would have to bring our ‘A’ game to this party and, if we had any clue what that actually meant, we probably wouldn’t have brought daiquiri mix and a bottle of lighter fluid. Kyle mixed the first batch with 75% booze and 25% mix and nobody wanted any. Let’s face it, how bad must it have been if a house full of college kids wouldn’t drink it? So we poured all of it into two Big Gulp cups  and started making our rounds.

By the time we filled the blender the second time, we were like two idiots standing out on a ledge and everyone else was inside the window pleading with us not to jump. We had drawn a small crowd around us in the kitchen as Kyle poured the last of the 151. “Don’t do it guys.” A splash of strawberry mix and the sound of ice being pulverized. “Please, guys. You can’t be serious?” One for you and one for me. A quick toast and…we jumped.

Kyle elected me to drive because I was still able to lean against the wall and he couldn’t get off the floor. We had to make a quick exit because Kyle had a small accident in the bathroom. “Dude, it looked like a shotgun murder in the bathtub,” was actually how he described it.

We would have gotten home a lot sooner if I didn’t have to stop every half mile to hurl because the road was jumping up and down. It was bad. I thought I had ruptured something because it was so red every time. When I was hanging out of the driver’s door, I kept trying to wave around a car that kept stopping behind us. I was sure it was the cops and even told Kyle that, if I could stand, I would rush their car and, hopefully, they would shoot me to death. It was actually Casey and Nate following us to make sure we got home in as few pieces as possible.

The next morning was really indescribable. Actually, it was afternoon because I didn’t wake up until two o’clock. I was in deep shit. I was supposed to be at my girlfriend’s house at 11 a.m. because we were going with a bunch of her friends to Kings Island amusement park. After a two hour shower, I was on my way. They had waited for me to show up because…oh yeah, I was supposed to bring the bottle of rum. We finally got to the park and I had a really great time riding the park bench and the occasional toilet seat. Both were complimented with frequent doses of ass chewing.

Let me put this hangover in perspective. Fifteen years later, my first wife and I had a party and someone had brought strawberry daiquiri mix and rum. They asked me if I would blend up a batch. Being the gracious host, of course I would. After it was mixed, I took the lid off the blender to pour it and I got just a whiff of it. My stomach started doing flip flops. I couldn’t believe it. 


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