Saturday Night continued...
After Kelly and I had left QT and the infamous Mopping Man to their own devices, we wandered for a time (I don’t really remember how long) until I once again felt the need to visit a ladies room…any ladies room. We’d been causing trouble in South O and had ventured west when I suddenly announced, "I have to pee. A lot." Kelly, being the crazy badass driver that she is, whipped the car at a gagillion miles an hour into the closest gas station, effectively giving me Drunken Whiplash as I rolled across her front seat.
Now before I describe what happened next, I have to explain that I am not in any way racist or prejudice, except towards Suzan. I am, apparently, being indoctrinated into the "ghetto world" through my friends down at work and have recently been obsessed with Bubba Sparx’s song, "Ms. New Booty."
With that said, we careened into the parking lot at warp speed, our windows down, hair blowing in the wind, excited for another gas station adventure, when I noticed three people exiting the establishment. I don’t mean to brag (ahem, but I kind of do) but I have encountered many a prostitute while working downtown and recognized the two voluptuous "ladies" as such, while their companion was obviously an escort of sorts. Thinking back on it, the fella didn’t seem all that menacing in his overall thinness when compared to the barely covered ladies he followed to their shiny SUV. In fact, I have to say I would have bitch-slapped his skinny ass long before I took on the large, working ladies he was standing guard over. But, in my drunkenness, none of this information seemed to penetrate the haze.
Instead, when my gaze landed on the threesome, and my brain seemed to finally catch up, I stuck my head out the window as we pulled into the stall next to theirs and started singing (as loud as possible), "Booty! Booty! Booty! Booty--" I didn’t actually get to the "Rockin’ everywhere" part because at that exact moment Kelly rolled up all the windows, locked all the doors and was shushing me as loudly as possible while swearing that I was going to get her killed. I burst out laughing, for who knows how long, until I could not ignore the needs of my blatter any longer and fought my door to release me upon the innocent gas station patrons. Luckily, by the time I had wrestled my drunken ass out of the car, the threesome had moved on.
Instead a new challenge presented itself, two solo Police cars pulling up alongside Kelly’s car. The first officer walked in behind me as I sauntered past the lighters, while the second seemed to be eyeballing Kelly, who was patiently awaiting my return in her running vehicle. When the second officer then started to look from Kelly to me standing inside the door grinning at him, back to Kelly, she tried signaling me to find the bathroom and stop lingering in the doorway. Unfortunately her frantic hand gestures made little more sense to me at that point than say…German or perhaps binary code. So, I decided the only thing to do in response to her signals was to wave emphatically back, just to let her know I’d atleast been trying to pay attention. I was later told I was waving so hard my head was actually bouncing on my shoulders like a bobble head.
The second officer, still standing between us and watching this exchange, shook his head and laughed as he finally entered the gas station.
Epilogue: I eventually found my way to the bathroom. Anyone standing outside the bathroom of the 42nd Street gas station right off the interstate at around 2AM on last Saturday night, would have only heard my cheerful chanting of ‘Booty, booty, booty, booty’ while I happily relieved myself. Yet another victory for all mankind.
