Why do people seem to think I am such an easy target? I think I have you all fooled... I am not an easy target. I seem nice and naive, but I know exactly what's going on beneath that schmoozy smile of yours. I know what you're thinking between those ears of yours. You think I don't know, but I know. My good vibe radar is always on and it works pretty damn good if you ask me. How do you think I've stayed safe after all these hitchhiking and traveling shenanigans? I've invested in my trusty good vibe radar, and all has been well since.
It was even working for me that one night that Quality Beer bar was opening.
Saturday night. Opening night. And Rachel's last hooh-ha before she left for the Peace Corps in Rwanda. My good vibe radar is working just fine. By bad vibe radar starts blowing up when I start attempting to order my first beer and Tall Strange Man starts talking to me. Tall Strange Man has a charm, but it's a forced charm. He eyes my Illinois tattoo and says, "Hmmm, based on blah, blah, and blah, I'm going to say that you're frrrrommm.... Chicago?". Well yes, how ever did you know?
And then there's me, "I'm nice, I'm too nice, blah blah blah, look at me be nice to you even though my bad vibe radar is flashing in my face".
"Wow, well I used to live in the Chicago area. I used to live in Naperville. You know Naperville?"
"I know Naperville. It's snooty. I like to call everyone who lives there Naper-villans. (Hehe)."
"Well, my all time favorite story from living in Naperville was when I was looking out my window from my apartment one day, and this GIANT yellow Hummer pulls up and parks on the street. This girl opens the door. This teeny tiny girl in this teeny tiny short skirt opens the door and she can't get out because her skirt is too short!"
Oh. my. god. Rachel? Help me? I elbowed my friends chatting on the other side of me. I turn around after they get my attention (with my beer sitting there on the bar open for play of course). And then I decide to let him finish his story because I'm too nice. Remember?
He continues, "Well, I watched this girl for a good ten minutes while she's trying all these ways to get out of her giant Hummer in her tiny skirt, but she just cant get out without her skirt coming up. So I watch her look around, hike her skirt up, turn around, and jump out of the Hummer... she was wearing a THONG! Can you believe that!? I just couldn't believe I got flashed by a girl in a thong in Naperville. I just love that story. I just love it."
Man. I really know how to attract the good ones.
"Well that's just great. Sounds like Naperville to me."
"You know, I live in Mohamett, but I come to Champaign on the weekends to play. I'd love to hear about your traveling stories. I'd like to take your phone number."
"I'll think about it." I replied. And turned around.
And around and around and around.... is the room spinning? Nope. That's probably the roofies kicking in.
One of our regulars from Pekara spotted us at the bar and came over to tell us how much he loves coming in there, and how great of an atmosphere we make the place. He want's to buy us all a round of drinks. Rachel and I are, of course, ecstatic. This is ourr looovvaahhh. He comes in looking all handsome working at Corkscrew (a wine place in town), smiles, and tips us a couple of bucks each day. So here I am trying to turn on my charm, which really isnt working about half-way through my ONE beer where the room is spinning and I can't quite see which face of his is the one talking to me.
"Excuse me," I say to him once I finish my beer, and ask a friend to escort me to the bathroom since I'm not quite sure I can make it alone.
I smile, giggle, and walk away saying, "Hehehehe, I think I think I'm going to throw up! Hehehe!" And I do. It's on my shirt, it's in my breath. But mostly in the toilet. And I walk back to our looovvaahhh thinking things will be okay now. Of course! Who doesn't love a girl with beer on her shirt and vomit on her breath? Oh, and, isn't this drunk feeling supposed to go away once you actually get it out of your system? Maybe not when there's a roofie in it. I drink beer. I can drink more than ONE beer, and I have never. ever. ever. felt like this before. This. is. terrible.
Rachel decides that now is a good time to take me home where I stumbled into my sister's house, and couldn't go any further. I couldn't bring myself to change my clothes or brush my teeth. I made it all the way to the bathroom only to feel my body get terribly heavy, and feeling so nauseous I can't keep my eyes open. So I lay down in front of the shower for the night, and sunk into the ground hoping I'll feel better in the morning.
Morning came. Laying there on the bathroom floor, and I was sick on the couch drinking ginger ale and crackers all day praying that I could just vomit out my insides so I don't feel like this anymore.
A hangover from one undigested beer? Or a hangover from a Tall Strange Man roofie?
I never would, but ladies, don't ever go out to a bar without someone you trust with you. Kapish?
