My butt became my face during one of the most embarrassing moments ever in the life of this writer. I share with you my misadventure. I was invited by my date to attend a party, to a place I had never been and for people I never had met before than. All the “party” people where her friends. I hate that. I hate meeting new people, and I hate party’s in general. To this day what the heck was there so much to party about?
So here goes,let the embarrassment rain on my kingdom:
We went out to this apartment complex where all the apartments look a like. Plenty of beer was flowing, when we had already arrived at my date’s friends house. My God, I think “Peter Frampton” was playing. Frampton had long hair and was considered a pretty boy back in the day. I was a “Foghat” man generally the polar opposite of “Frampton.” My date knowing everyone ran into an “boyfriend.” at this particular party. What are the odds of that?
You know, a guy who is just a friend to a girl. The kind of “friend” who after meetingme as her date proceeded to maul her like a prisoner out of the system for five years. Anyway, after watching this stuff, I decided to walk out doors for a breather of sorts. I also thought while outdoors about not coming back. I had met already most of the folks there and had already forgotten names. So here I go taking a night eleven-thirty night run in a place I never had been and when all the places looked alike. Yea, I’ll get back there O.K.
I’m walking along, and I realize I had gone off the beaten path, but I’ll find it. I began to look for the patio with the sliding door, and listen for loud lame music. It seemed all the apartments had not just the same patio screen doors, and it seemed like everyone was playing “Frampton.” God I am lost, and I have found Hell I thought.
So hear I am, again, I am totally pissed off and screwed, and lost!
Now near panic mode, I am looking in strange window’s at strange people in my efforts to find my date and the right apartment. People who saw me looked aggravated, a little scared I suppose as I was an accidental peeping tom. This is not a good thing. Finally, after about forty-five minutes, I find the original apartment I was at…I thought. I see a couple sitting on a couch, drinking beer and watching television. Damn, I thought the party must had moved. I took the bold moved and opened up the patio’s screen door from the outside. I walked in the apartment and asked the couple where the party was. Neither of them would speak. I figured they forgot my name, as I did not know them and vice-versa. The couple looked at me with shear terror. The female said to her husband or boy friend something like this. “Billy, give him whatever he wants and than he will leave.” Billy”, looked freaked out and asked me If I wanted a beer, and if I did,I could get one out of the fridge.”
So I walked to the “fridge” and grabbed a beer. By the way I was of legal age to drink, the only plus of that night. “Billy” asked me if I was O.K., and said I could grab the whole six pack if I wanted to, but he had nothing else to offer. I told this couple I had a hard time with names, and asked them where the rest of the party went.
Now if you had not guessed by now, here goes. Billy explained, there was no party at his apartment. I froze. The couple thought I was going to rob them or something. The couple was mortified, but I felt much worse about as bad as the time I was in junior high and stepped in dog-mess at lunch outside and walked in late into my English class!
In stuttering vocals Billy said, “Friend….buddy….that party you are talking about is a couple of doors down.”
Yes, I walked into the completely wrong apartment grabbed an offered beer, and terrified it’s occupants. I even offered the half empty beer back, with a hopeless apology. I found my date, and to this day I never had told her about that night. It never worked out between us because soon after that, we never saw each other or spoke again. We never even became “friends.” A wise man told meyears later that “All your friends are in your pocket.” So true.