Here’s your chance for some points. Five SBD points for a correct answer.
Circa 1990
A friend and I were at an outdoor beach bar trying to work off a hangover. We’d found that if you went about three o’clock you’d get to see the majority of the hotties standing up, shaking the sand off and showering away the salt before heading home for the day. The outdoor bar, part of a hotel actually, was located directly across from the little shower and in close proximity.
My friend and I were the only patrons that afternoon until a lovely girl in very short shorts walked up to the bar and ordered a drink. Soon a conversation developed and before long I was plying this girl with rum-runners toped with Bacardi 151. And while I was engaging the young lady my friend became rather bored. There was just the one girl and business was business. Since he was driving he couldn’t really leave me there until I had radar lock.
My friend was somewhat depressed by the developing situation and decided he should start doing shots of various types and before long he could barely stand up. But he was a happy drunk.
“Let’s go out to dinner,” he slurred. “I’m buying.”
So the three of us, with me behind the wheel, went to an overpriced seafood place on the water. Here’s where it starts getting fuzzy. We ordered all kinds of expensive shit. My friend continued to hammer drinks while I continued to work the broad, who was very attractive and at that point, pretty drunk as well. I felt a hand on my thigh. Then I felt it moving up under my shorts, at which point I told my friend we’d be right back and went out to the car.
On the way out there I had a moment of clarity and began to wonder what I was getting myself into. I had only known the broad about an hour and she was making it perfectly clear that I was going downtown. Even in my haze I was aware that any girl willing to go legs up after knowing someone for an hour (and in broad daylight) had a pretty high skank factor. I began to question my judgment. She was fairly young, but you never knew where people had been and I had no condoms. To make a long story short, I restricted the activities severely, and the next day I couldn’t find my class ring, but that’s another story.
A short time later we were walking back into the restaurant when I saw the maître d' running towards us.
“Sir, I need to have a word with you.”
I just stood there looking at him.
“There is a problem with your friend. The other diner’s are complaining.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I said. I had a good idea of what the problem would be.
When we got back to the table my friend was sitting there passed out with his face buried in what looked like a plate of grilled mahi-mahi with yellow rice. I could see how this would be a problem. All of our entrée’s had arrived and the broad was already eating and there I stood wondering what the hell I was going to do next. I tried shaking him but he was really out. I eventually stood behind him and used all my strength to pull his face up out of the plate by his hair. I held it there for a moment, covered in rice and whatever sauce was on the fish, and then let go again. It plopped back down into the plate.
There was no rousing him. I looked up and noticed that every customer and employee in the place was staring at us. I made the international hand sign for the check and tried to wake up Sleeping Beauty but had no luck so I wrenched his wallet out and paid the bill with his credit card, leaving a ridiculously high tip. It took a lot of effort to get my friend up and on his feet but I managed to do it, much to the relief of everybody in the place. He still had food all over his face. So I’m trying to get him out the door and the broad, who was not phased by any this, went into the bathroom and I decided the best thing to do would be to fucking flee while she was in there.
So I’m in a rush trying to get away from the peculiar woman and my friend, who by the way had never acted like that before or since, is staggering severely and as I’m guiding him he starts hurling on a car and the scene continued for some time afterwards but you get the idea.
It sounds possible; however, I'm going with sham.
Because I'm a cynic. And you don't strike me as the class-ring-wearing type either.
Ok...I want to say sharing...
but I'm thinking Paul was the one with his face in the mahi mahi.
Sham!
I'm going with sham, otherwise he'd have nailed her to the car seat and claimed to be Gonad the Barbarian.
I'm always wrongw with these, so I'll go against my better judgement and say Share.
I'm gonna go with share
I swear I've heard this story somewhere before...
Gonna say....share!
You know what? I say sham, I don't know why, something just strikes me as off to the whole story.
It kind of sounds like one of those pulp PI novels from the 70s... I don't know why.
Maybe I'll end up with mahi mahi on my face.
Sham. It takes a minimum of two hours to get a beach bunny drunk.
Yes Jim..but you don't know if she was drinking before and she was in the sun...which makes for a fast good buzz.
I say share.