Boys, Booze, a Benz, and the A-Team

It was a Saturday night.  I spent an hour in my bathroom, spinning my short blonde locks around a small curling iron achieving Carrie Bradshaw bounce.  I threw on a low cut purple top over a white cami and my favorite pair of jeans, pulled on my  black high heeled boots and made a quick quality check in the mirror.  The evening awaited, an evening to be spent with one of my best friends and our favorite boyfriends, the kind of boys who love other boys, so they’re safe.

I drove to my girlfriend’s parents’ house where she was house-sitting for the weekend.  She let out a complimentary whistle when she opened the door. I whistled back. She’s tall, blonde, and striking, totally worthy of heads turning and whistles. After our wordless exchange, she pulled me into the bar where she made us each a stiff Peach Vodka and soda.  As we downed our drinks, we discussed the plans for the evening.  There would be dancing at one of my favorite night clubs, one that catered to boys on boys, so I knew we could dance with no strings.  I.Love.Dancing.  I could hardly contain my excitement.  When it was time to leave, I grabbed my keys to go, but she shook her head.

She guided me to the garage where she revealed a brand new silver Mercedes Benz (I think it was an S Class) recently purchased by her step mom.  And when I say recently, it was purchased the previous day.  “We’re taking this,” she said with a cheeky grin.

“Are you sure?” I asked as I made myself comfortable in the passenger seat, breathing in the smell of fresh leather and new car, drinking in the absolute luxury of the vehicle.

“Positive,”  she said and promised to remain sober and drive us safely home.

She hopped in the driver’s seat, and guided the car gently out of the garage.  We entered the tollway, where she fondled the Benz a little taking it to higher speeds than were allowed, letting the silver beauty purr along the freeway.

We arrived at the nightclub, valeted the Benz, and stepped into the welcoming thumping bass.  Just as planned, our boys were there waiting.  They ordered us each a drink and then a round of shots.  We all drank.  I knew I wasn’t driving, so I didn’t hold back.

Steve and I each took another shot.  Then he ushered me to the dance floor.  Steven had the moves like Jagger.  He pulled me into him and swayed against me, guiding me with his hand on the small of my back.  I grabbed hold of his biceps and tossed my head back moving my body with the beat.  When the music changed, we followed suit, each in tune with the other, matching the pace of the music, keeping our bodies glued together.

I decided it was time to take a break and grab another drink.  Steven and I headed to the bar, had another drink and another shot. Or two.

When one of his favorite songs began to play,  he ran to the dance floor and motioned for me to join him.

How could I resist?

How could I resist?

There we were again, bouncing, swaying, moving with the beat when he leaned in and whisper-yelled in my ear, “Just follow my lead.”  I made eye contact and nodded wondering what he had in store for me.  He grabbed me just below my ass and lifted me up.  Following his lead, I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.  He started spinning.  I’m not sure if it was the shots that clouded my judgement or the fact that I had just spent the prior evening with the Matrix, but what followed can only be described as both magical and stupid.

I let go of his neck and gripped his waist with my thighs letting my torso fall back parallel with the ground.  The techno beat and my cirque du soleil moves only fueled Steven who continued to spin as I slowly moved my arms imitating a slow backstroke until the song ended.  Steven lowered me to the ground, and though we were no longer turning in circles, my head continued to spin, along with the room.

When we made it back to our table, our entourage greeted us with whoops and applause and “oh my Gods” over our theatrical dancing.  I paid no attention.  I went straight to the bar and ordered a glass of water.  It did nothing for the spinning.  I went back to the table and rested my head in my hand, but the spinning wouldn’t cease.  Apparently, I looked a bit green, so being the good wingman that she was, my girlfriend said farewell to our boyfriends and retrieved the Benz.

We started driving home.  She chatted away about so and so and what’s his name, etc. while I begged my body to hold tight.  Then it started.  The chicken necking.  I felt it rising in my chest, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to contain it much longer.  We were almost to our exit.  Just hold on for a few more minutes, my mind said.  My body wasn’t having it.  I reached over and turned the air conditioning up hoping it would cool my clammy skin.  It cooled me but didn’t calm my still spinning stomach, and the chicken necking picked up speed.

I looked around.  In the brand new Mercedes Benz was nothing, no bags, no towels, nothing.  I moved my jacket so that it covered the seat underneath me.

I swallowed.  And I swallowed again.  Little beads of sweat dampened my forehead and the back of my neck.  I couldn’t hold it anymore.

I grabbed the top of my shirt and held it out.  And then I used it as a barf bag.

We pulled into the garage.  My friend continued to chatter non stop.  When she got out of the car, I asked her for a little help.

“With what?”

And then I told her what I had done.  She didn’t hear a thing.  Apparently, I’m a quiet puker.  We carefully maneuvered me out of the car and managed to keep the brand new Mercedes Benz clean of any vomit.

I stripped out of my soiled clothes in the laundry room and threw everything into the washer, showered, borrowed some clothes from my friend, and passed out in the guest room.

The next morning over coffee, my girlfriend looked at me and said, “All I know is that if I’m picking teams, I choose you.  You are straight up A-team.”

And all because I respected the brand new beautiful Mercedes Benz.

Where is the weirdest place you’ve ever had to blow chunks?  Have you ever used yourself as a barf bag?  Would you have soiled the brand new Benz?  Do you want to dance?

 

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63 thoughts on “Boys, Booze, a Benz, and the A-Team

  1. This made me laugh.

    Because I’ve had to throw up in some horrible places.

    Once I was dancing, quite off my face and someone close by offered around that amyl nitrate stuff. I didn’t even have to sniff it for me to start getting clammy around the gills. And as I knew there was no way I could hold it back any longer, I did a mad dash across the dance floor, through lots and lots of people, with my hands over my mouth and my morticia sleeves filling with vommie – as I made it to the bathrooms and straight into the sink. Not even waiting for a toilet.

    My friends congratulated me on a vomit dash well done as I didn’t spill a drop and no one would have been the wiser that I was vomiting.

    On the other hand I’ve seen one of my friends try to get down a flight of stairs and do the exorcist vomit on a girl coming up the stairs. It was priceless.

    I also did a mad dash once off the dance floor of Mardi Gras into the bushes to vomit. That was a good few minutes of running before my own exorcist style vomiting erupted.

    In my defense, I missed all the people.

    The bush didn’t fare so well.

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  2. Where haven’t I thrown up at is the question. Let’s see. I danced so hard in Vegas at a club that I had to go outside and puke. I’m talking jersey shore dancing. More of a workout than anything. My girlfriend puked straight in my lap as I was driving once. That sucked pretty bad. I once threw up at the Fillmore in San Francisco and my tiny little friend had to take the money out of my wallet and paid a bum to watch me while she got the car. I was laying on a bus stop bench FYI. Or there was that time my friend threw up on the freeway out the front window and it flew back all over me in the backseat. I have too many. Haha.

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  3. OMG FOR REALZ!?!?!?! You’re amazing. I LOVED the dancing though…I could see it 😀

    (no weird vomming here – just weird sleeping AFTER drunk vomming. Like on the mixer tap. Cue a bruise down the centre of my forehead)

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      • DANGG! Faucet! I so didn’t expect to get X-Ponded on THAT one!

        Yeah. I fell asleep on the faucet, with my head balanced right on the curve of it (where I got the bruise). Because I was about to turn 30 and Princess Kate had a new baby and I didn’t, and I was about to be That Age Where You Should Have Things Sorted. And I didn’t

        Ick :/

        (Later that night, I also fell asleep on the tiled bathroom floor, and was awoken at stupid’o’clock in the morning, absolutely stone-cold-freezing, by Husby, who picked me up and very gently and kindly got me out of my clothes and put me to bed. He didn’t even tell me off, cos he knew why…)

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      • That sounds like a very uncomfortable sleep. And since when are you supposed to have things sorted by 30? I’m still not sorted, and I’m closer to the next decade. Maybe I should quit playing on the computer and write down some goals. Or I could go look at facebook. 🙂

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      • Well I used to have a crazy expectation that I could be at least doing the ‘married with kids’ thing by 30. Especially seeing as my baby sister upset my applecart by getting that part done in her early 20’s (not that it turned out well – you’d think I could’ve learned from that)

        I’m going for 41 now. That’s gonna be my “I got this” age. YOU, milady, are doing just fine. And you can catch a tummyful of alcohol barf in your own shirt. So there’s that…

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  4. THAT was a great story and a lot of the credit goes to how you wrote it – nice job! I would go out dancing and drinking with you anytime lady. I’ve never had to throw up anywhere weird, definitely never used myself as a barf bag, nice save! I would have asked her to pull over so I could throw up on the side of the road. Which reminds me that as a kid almost every time we drove down the mountain from a visit to our cabin in Big Bear that I would get carsick and my parents would pull the car over at some point so I could barf. So I guess the trees of the local SoCal mountains have been fertilized by my barf…

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  5. Chicken necking hahaha I’ve never heard that before. You are a good friend. I can only hope I’d have done the same. I’m trying so hard to think, but off the top of my head I can’t think of anywhere weird I’ve puked. *shrugs* I guess I save my weird locations for peeing. 🙂

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    • I would have hung my head out of the window rather than defile that brand new Benz. She was way too pretty for vomit. I couldn’t do it. And I WAS a wild child. These days, I can’t hang like I did then. You know before responsibilities.

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  6. You are a baller. I would have cried like a baby. One of my sister’s proudest moments is throwing up in bed all INSIDE a Pepsi bottle. No mess. I don’t have that kind of game. No even. You guys are highly evolved!

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  7. I’m smiling like an idiot over here, apparently I like to hear stories about people upchucking in swiftly moving vehicles. Let me think…. I’m pretty sure the most random place I’ve ever thrown up (other than some bushes, a movie theatre…) was on an airplane because we guzzled WAY too much wine. I was very subtle, used the air sick bag, and knelt in the aisle (because I tried to go in the bathroom but it was occupied). I then nonchalantly walked it to the stewardess and asked her what in God’s name I was supposed to do with it.

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    • At least you had a bag. I think I’m going to petition with Mercedes to include barf bags in their vehicles…you know…just in case. And what did she do with it? What do they do with the barf bags? That is a very good question.

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      • She just took it very politely and then I’m pretty sure she used magic to make it disappear. It’s a wee bit disconcerting to think about how my vomit was still with us for the duration of the flight… but I suppose all sorts of other things were too. We were over the Pacific for so many hours….
        Why am I thinking about this.

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  8. Quiet pukers are rare…and you were really a fast thinker! Not only were you able to think of using your shirt, you executed the maneuver perfectly! I am *so* impressed with you!!
    I don’t think I ever barfed anywhere unusual. Like one of your other commenters, I tried to puke out of the window of a car once. I’ll just say that isn’t wise, and I’ll leave it at that.
    I LOVE LOVE LOVE that dancing GIF. There can never be enough Derek Zoolander. Never! –Lisa

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  9. Geez, a post with gay men AND puking in a Mercedes? Winner!

    I hate puking and totally suck at it. You could have 10 toilets and a million brown bags in a room and I’d manage to vomit all over everything except the toilets and the bags. I rarely do it, thankfully.

    I’ll give you two puke locations though, since you asked. On my 21st birthday, the boys brought me home and put me into my waterbed (remember when those were cool? Creepy was cool, right?) Anyway, I’d had enough booze to kill a small giraffe that night and the motion of the bed didn’t help. Thankfully, I rolled over and puked all over my landline phone on the floor instead of choking to death on it. Well, lucky for me, maybe not the rest of the world.

    Prior to that, in high school, a girl I was seeing wanted to “talk” and told me not to be drunk when she got there so, of course, I got wasted on a bottle of Andres Cold Duck and Lambrusco. There was a 2 for $5 deal on it for New Year’s Eve! You can’t beat that. Anyway, I got hammered, she broke up with me and later that night I managed to actually vomit INTO a toilet at my friend’s house! It was amazing! Problem was, I had a fake tooth at that time on a retainer type device (if it has a name, I have no clue) and it came out with the Lambrusco. I was fishing around in the toilet saying, “Here toothy, here toothy toothy, where are you?” Thank god we didn’t have video phones back then as I have to hear about this every time I visit with that friend and his parents. The second hand account is bad enough. Lol.

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    • Oh no. Did you ever find your tooth, Don? I do remember water beds. I had one, too. I’m surprised I didn’t get sick every time I went to bed with that thing. I filled mine really full though. Something about wooshing around at night doesn’t sound so appealing. What was wrong with us in the 80’s?

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  10. Oh that is awesome and horrible all at once! I am deeply impressed with your dance moves though, I once tried to do the Dirty Dancing one with my gay boyfriend and I knocked us both to the ground in a fairly undignified manner.

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    • The Dirty Dancing move is tricky. I think you need Patrick Swayze and that “baby” song to make it work. My good friend’s brother is a really good dancer, and we choreographed an entire routine once for her wedding. At one point we did a backwards Dirty Dancing where he lifted me over his head from behind. It was easier to get into that move, but the result of doing that was several photos being taken of me from behind, and I was in a dress, so undies pics are out there of me. I’m not proud about it. I should have thought about that before agreeing to the ridiculous dance. It was fun though.

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  11. I’d want you on my team too. I’ve never puked anywhere but the toilet, and I’m a little sad that I don’t have an awesome puke story to tell like yours. But I will absolutely dance with you – I’ll even do the lift.

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  12. The place wasn’t weird, but it was most definitely inappropriate! I was working for the D.P.R. & didn’t know I was pregnant with Inion! DPR is a State agency Department of Professional Regulation. I worked for an attorney, Douglas Shropshire. For lunch, I ate what I always ate. A sandwich, pickles & V8! I doctored my V8 like a virgin bloody mary. And I dearly loved them. But as I said, I was five weeks pregnant and didn’t even know it! After I was done, I decided to go into the girls bathroom & repaint the walls with V8. Unfortunately it was projectile vomiting which means I was unable to control the spew!! Yuk, I can still recall what looked like a Bloody Massacre! No pun intended!! lmao 😉

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    • Pregnancy puking is a completely different story. With my first pregnancy, I constantly had to vomit in my work trashcan because I could in no way make it all the way to the other side of the building. I tried once and ended up puking in the trashcan by the elevator. Once when I was pregnant with my second baby, I went to a german festival where I ate way too much fried food. Needless to say, when I got home I was feeling more than green and ended up going straight to bed. That’s when the room started to spin. I realized that it was coming and ended up having exorcism projectile vomit in my room. My husband came in and said, “What are you doing? STOP!” He was a lot of help. Clearly.

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  13. I’ve never puked anywhere really interesting, sadly. I’ve always been at home when I’ve drank so much that I vomited, though those are funny stories, too.

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  14. OMG can I just tell you how much I LOVE this post? I could see it all clearly in my mind but still would have liked to see a video of the dancing. Good for you for keeping the car clean! You need to speak to my adult daughter, who is also a quiet puker—problem is she lets it fall on the car mats instead…..

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    • I would love to see a video of the dancing, too. In my head, it looks amazing. I love a good dance partner who’s willing to take risks. But I don’t love chunks in a car. I can teach your daughter some tricks. Give her my number!

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  15. Ha! So glad Twindaddy sent us here to admire your sunshine-y-ness. Happy birthday!!
    (Or is that happy barf-day. Hmmmmm… Hard to say. But either way, you’re a winner. Or is that spinner?)

    Like

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