Victory Is Mine

Best. Friday Night. Ever.

Picture this: a 98 Ford Explorer with Louisiana tags barreling down the highway 520 bridge from Seattle over to Bellevue at 2am, projectile puke flying out of both sides of the vehicle, courtesy of moi (front passenger seat) and my homie Matt (driver-side rear seat). Meanwhile, Matt's wife Gesina, seated behind me and adjacent to Matt, is laughing so hard she actually passed the fuck out. Apparently it can happen. Good thing it didn't happen to Arie, who was laughing similarly hard, but he was driving and if he'd passed out from laughing that would have presented some entirely new problems. We're in the right-hand lane so my dinner is partially in Lake Washington and partially decorating the right-hand side of aforementioned 98 Explorer. I tried to get a feel for whether or not there was anyone behind us who was getting smeared by barbecue chicken and steamed veggies as well, but by that point my vision had deteriorated from normal 20/30 to about 20/300 so about all I can do for you is confirm that there were in fact headlights behind us, just not sure how far. Arie, meanwhile, is watching people pass us in the left lane and everytime he tries to look out his rear view mirror to see behind us, all he can see is Matt's head jutting about a foot out the window into the other lane and a steady stream of nastiness flowing right onto the left-hand side of the vehicle. (What's funny here is that, upon examination of the vehicle this morning, it was evident that Gesina had used a dainty one-finger approach to close her door when we got home last night, since that whole side of the truck was smeared with my mess; on Matt's side there was an entire sloppy handprint in the middle of his puke stain, indicating that apparently he just plain didn't give a fuck when he shut his door.)

Probably should've seen all that coming since about twenty minutes before the simultaneous pukeage, I'd stumbled up to the barkeep to close out my tab, at which point ole Carlos chuckled and informed me I'd closed out my tab about 3 minutes before that. And at some point in between that and the puking, Matt decided it would be fun to make it back to the car with a City of Seattle orange traffic cone, which he promptly deposited in the back of the Explorer for memory's sake. That part's important because as we spent this morning reconstructing the events of last night, we kept opening different doors on the explorer to find entirely new parts of the story that had been forgotten. (Arie, of course, was sober through all of this, and even he had trouble remembering some parts.)

Arie dropped us off at home and went right down the street to the trusty 24-hour Jack in the Box to pick us up some eats, got back EIGHT minutes later and we were all passed out, so he ate his spicy chicken combo meal and what should have been my ultimate cheeseburger combo.

Yeah, we represented Louisiana pretty well last night. Sorry to the headlights behind us if you were, in fact, close enough to get sprayed.

posted by Publius @ 5:26 PM