Crack Whore
A few years ago, I was working in Palm Beach when a few buddies of mine showed up in town. My work schedule was extremely hectic and I hadn't had any time to party at all, so I jumped at the chance to toss back a few when they called me and asked if I'd like to hit some bars in downtown West Palm.
Later that night, Doug picked me up and we headed out to meet the rest of the crew at a little Irish pub five miles or so from my hotel. As is usually the case when some friends and I get a few drinks down, someone made a comment about my scrotum ring and peaked the interest of all who had yet see it. Some of you know that it only takes one "Lemme see" and two Crown and Cokes for me to drop my zipper and BLAM... you've got an eyeful of nutsac. So is the case here. The girls were giggling, the guys were wincing, and I was beginning to get really fuck'n drunk.
After that, I don't remember much of what happened in the bar (no surprise there) except that I couldn't find anyone I knew, including my ride. So using my sound judgment (right), I decided that walking five miles back to the hotel at 2:30 in the morning was my best option. I'd hoofed nearly halfway when the sparkling neon sign of a convenient store drew me like a barracuda to a gold watch. I was in luck too... Cheesy Poofs were buy one get one free.
With a bag under each arm and a bottle of Gatorade I stepped out the door and headed for the sidewalk, when a hunk-of-shit car pulls up next to me. "You need a ride?" a woman's voice called from inside. God knows why, but I said, "Sure," and hopped into the passenger seat.
As we hit the asphalt, the chick pulls a single cigarette and a lighter out of her pocket and attempts to hold the smoke and drive with one hand, and light the thing with the other. Now, I was drunk mind you, but she was sure having trouble lighting that thing because she was just holding the flame there like it wouldn't light. After a few long seconds of wondering what the hell was taking so long, I concentrated on focusing my bleary eyes and came to the startling realization that what she was holding was not a cigarette. Nope. Definitely a glass pipe in the same shape as one. Stunned, I asked, "IS THAT CRACK?" "Yeah," she answered nonchalantly. "Wow. I've just never seen anyone smoke crack before." Here I am, in a car traveling 55 mph, with a woman that's steering a stick shift with one finger, AND smoking a crack pipe. It's at this point that I realize, this was not a very good idea.
Luckily for me, I made it back to the hotel in one piece (she was obviously a pro). In exchange for the ride, I gave her an entire bag of Cheesy Poofs. I figured that she'd need them, although I don't really know whether or not crack gives you the munchies.
Moral of the story: Take a Taxi. I have only taken a ride from a stranger twice, and I was drunk both times (imagine that), but the other story... well, I'll post it later but suffice to say that it was much more scary.
Peace.
Later that night, Doug picked me up and we headed out to meet the rest of the crew at a little Irish pub five miles or so from my hotel. As is usually the case when some friends and I get a few drinks down, someone made a comment about my scrotum ring and peaked the interest of all who had yet see it. Some of you know that it only takes one "Lemme see" and two Crown and Cokes for me to drop my zipper and BLAM... you've got an eyeful of nutsac. So is the case here. The girls were giggling, the guys were wincing, and I was beginning to get really fuck'n drunk.
After that, I don't remember much of what happened in the bar (no surprise there) except that I couldn't find anyone I knew, including my ride. So using my sound judgment (right), I decided that walking five miles back to the hotel at 2:30 in the morning was my best option. I'd hoofed nearly halfway when the sparkling neon sign of a convenient store drew me like a barracuda to a gold watch. I was in luck too... Cheesy Poofs were buy one get one free.
With a bag under each arm and a bottle of Gatorade I stepped out the door and headed for the sidewalk, when a hunk-of-shit car pulls up next to me. "You need a ride?" a woman's voice called from inside. God knows why, but I said, "Sure," and hopped into the passenger seat.
As we hit the asphalt, the chick pulls a single cigarette and a lighter out of her pocket and attempts to hold the smoke and drive with one hand, and light the thing with the other. Now, I was drunk mind you, but she was sure having trouble lighting that thing because she was just holding the flame there like it wouldn't light. After a few long seconds of wondering what the hell was taking so long, I concentrated on focusing my bleary eyes and came to the startling realization that what she was holding was not a cigarette. Nope. Definitely a glass pipe in the same shape as one. Stunned, I asked, "IS THAT CRACK?" "Yeah," she answered nonchalantly. "Wow. I've just never seen anyone smoke crack before." Here I am, in a car traveling 55 mph, with a woman that's steering a stick shift with one finger, AND smoking a crack pipe. It's at this point that I realize, this was not a very good idea.
Luckily for me, I made it back to the hotel in one piece (she was obviously a pro). In exchange for the ride, I gave her an entire bag of Cheesy Poofs. I figured that she'd need them, although I don't really know whether or not crack gives you the munchies.
Moral of the story: Take a Taxi. I have only taken a ride from a stranger twice, and I was drunk both times (imagine that), but the other story... well, I'll post it later but suffice to say that it was much more scary.
Peace.
Laid down by AT - 10:15 PM
2 Comments:
what did you get from her
A ride....
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