The Grand Finale

Malan: "Drinks at Mama Kwan's?"

Me: "Sure, why not."

Malan: "Do you know how to skate?" *Hands me a skateboard*

Me: "Yeah."

What a lie. What I meant was that I had skateboarded when I was a kid, a little kid, but the sobering reality was that I hadn't been on a skateboard in about twenty years. My short-lived skating career had also ended when I had used my face to stop my forward momentum down a steep hill in my neighborhood. I made it to the bar in one piece and we began to drink, and play Photohunt.

We skateboarded home from the bar and continued drinking. Whether these guys like it or not, every night there is a party at their house. There were the Nags Head usuals,

Coenen (left) and Paul (right), who keep popping up in my adventures,

"What, like I'm going to put it on the internet for thousands of people to see." -oops.

and Jessica. Oooooooh Jessica. Want to touch the hiney. I wanted to throw her and Coenen in a room with a case of beer and lock the door so their progeny would sweep America's Next Top Model. It was really weird, she was smoking hot, yet she wasn't snobby or a bitch...quite the opposite actually. It's good to know there are girls like her out there. Develli had come down as well,

and we drank ourselves into the gutter. I ended up passing out curled up on a three foot loveseat for the second time in as many nights. The last night was on top of a pile of laundry to make my nights sleep: Car, gravel, gravel, spider couch, loveseat, loveseat, pile of laundry. That's a roadtrip for you.

We spent the last evening hanging out with Dave Malan's family, and this turned out to be the most fun night of the trip. We ate dinner and began some light drinking with Coronas that Uncle Rich had spiked with Absolut Citron. He mixed up multiple pitchers full of liquor drinks, and served them with a maniacal laugh. By sunset, we were all playing quarters.

Develli, Malan's little sister, Jim, Dave, and Dave's Uncle.

Playing quarters is a lot more fun than my family tradition of making fun of each other until someone cries. Is liquor the answer? Probably not. Dave's dad had to leave because he couldn't bare the sight of his daughter getting wasted with us. It was a blast. Uncle Rich became my living proof that you can get blasted all the time and still lead a completely functional life. So let me reiterate that by now we were all pretty drunk. We decided to wrap up the night at the bar Port O' Call, and that's where the magic happened.

Up until just about that day Malan's bathtub had been covered with vomit, making a shower an impossibility. In fact, I hadn't taken one since Oklahoma, so I was pretty grimy. My love life has been kind of slow, i.e. nonexistent, for a while now, and I'm not really one for one night stands, so I really didn't see a need to go out of my way to find a shower. Big mistake.

We showed up at Port O' Call, where everyone else from College was, and drank to the screaming of the most pathetic death metal band I've ever heard. Everyone was laughing at them because they were serious. Thank God I was wasted. A girl that I had caught looking at me earlier came up and we started talking. The details of the conversation were not as important as the fact that I was hanging onto a handrail for support during it. During breaks in conversation to buy another 4 or 5 beers, I went up to Develli and Malan and asked them what they thought. One shrugged, and the other said something like: "Do what you have to do." Yesterday at TOTS Develli and I were arguing whether she was 'husky' or 'big boned,' so... you get the picture. Whatever, I was wasted.

We all decide to leave the bar and go back to Malan's for yet more drinking. I was completely aware that I was going home with this girl, and exactly what I was going to do to her when we got there. Yet somehow, I had to use enough smoke and mirrors to get away with my barnyard smell. The first things that came to mind were:

1) Punch her in the nose. If she can't smell, I'd only be disgusting myself.
2) Find a sewer that smells like ballsweat and jump in it.
2a) Pull her in.
3) Locate dignity and go pass out somewhere. Yeah right.

We got back to Malan's and had a few more beers. I went into the bathroom and caked on Old Spice, which didn't remove the smell but instead mutated and magnified it. I had just made things worse. I was still going to give this a go. "Want to go back to your place?" We started to walk, and somewhere over those two miles I convinced her that we should take a shower when we got to her place. I can't remember how, but it worked. We snuck in her place past about four people sleeping on couches, and into the bathroom. By the time she had reached in (still clothed) to turn it on I was completely naked and snatching at the soap. The timing was flawless. By the time she had gotten undressed and in the shower, I had done the proper damage control and no one was the wiser.

The next hour in the bedroom was, per usual, trying to get my frustratingly flaccid dick to come back to life. What a great tribute to how much alcohol I drank earlier. Eventually I gave up and resigned to just passing out.

"No, you can't stay here!"

She didn't want her roommates to know that she'd had a guy over. You know what the strangest thing about that statement was? That for some reason I will never know, it turned me on enough to finish the job. That's right, I couldn't successfully nail her until she told me to leave. I walked back, boxers in pocket, just in time to watch the sun rise and get teased by Coenen and Jessica. I threw open Malan's door, curled up on a pile of dirty laundry, and passed out with a smile on my face.

Fifty three hours on the road, 3171.72 miles, a 20 inch trout, a radiator, and a one night stand later, I finally reached my destination back at school.

And went directly to the bar to pick up where I'd left off.