Ok now here’s a little change of pace - a little something different in the course of action in this game I call life. Some of my stories may make you think that I’m just a raging dick head only in it for the best interest of…myself. For the most part, reader, you’re right - so gold star for you. However, there was a time when I was all about being Mr. Nice Guy. But, that was before I woke up and smelled the coffee. Some of those Nice Guy values have carried over into this new existence I’ve created for myself. And when these qualities show, those lucky enough to experience Mr. Nice guy Justin are truly fortunate.
New Years Eve 2009 Sausage, our friend Peter, my buddy Jen, and I all decided to head up North to Milwaukee, WI to celebrate at Marquette University. I’m not sure about the rest of you, but Milwaukee just freaks me out because it’s like a smaller, creepier version of Chicago. I just get weirded out every time I head out there.
Anyway, we arrive at the party house which was an old Chicago-style Row house; very narrow and tall with about three floors and a basement. The place was great. There were a few hot girls here and there, some guys were jammin’ as a band (which was better than crappy club music that stupid young girls seem to always select), and there was a keg. We play a few games of beer pong and are beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol flowing. Then around 11:20, we realize that we don’t have any cigars to celebrate the evening. We decide that we need some. But it’s 11:20! We don’t know where we are or what time we’ll get back. We don’t want to miss midnight!
So we act quickly. We leave the party out of the back door and begin a dead sprint to the convenient store, which is down two long alleys, and a right turn up another 4 blocks or so. It’s a pretty long sprint and keep in mind we’re beginning to feel drunk. Something about being drunk makes it feel like you’re running as fast as you ever have. Am I right? I feel like I’ve done this too many times. At the convenient store we spot a pizza that a lady in line had put down while she pays. I consider stealing this and running, since I’m so fast and can get away with it, but Sausage convinces me otherwise. We sprint back and arrive at about 11:32. Twelve minutes; stupid us.
We drink and drink and drink, and spray people with Champagne at midnight. We smoke cigars and just get more and more trashed as the night goes on. Then, at about 2am Jen, Sausage and I decide we’re hungry. We have no clue where Peter is.
BOOM. There was a Jimmy John’s by that convenient store! So we venture out again; this time walking and taking our time. As we turn the corner into the alley, Sausage begins to take a piss on a building, and Jen and I notice a stumbling beauty attempting to make her way through the alley towards us. She can barely walk and seems like she is looking through everything at nothing. She’s plastered.
As she gets closer we yell at her asking her if she’s alright. As she stumbles toward me, I grab her to make sure she doesn’t fall. Jen helps out too. Sausage was still pissing. We ask her where she’s going, why she’s by herself, and where she lives. Apparently her friends ditched her, she couldn’t remember anyone’s phone number, and didn’t even have her own phone. We consider taking her to the party house and throwing her on the floor, but then realize that’s probably a bad idea because even we really don’t know anyone there. She wasn’t too gung ho about this idea either. She’s still struggling to stand so we keep a good hold of her.
Rather than taking her to the party house, we decide to walk with her and try to figure out where she’s going. Sausage just wants to ditch her. “It’s not our problem,” he says. Funny…but whatever. We continue walking her, trying to figure what this girl’s deal is. Apparently her house is yellow. The three of us look at each other after hearing this description and lip sync “WHAT THE FUCK?” Luckily for us she lives at the end of the alley and around the corner. As we turn the corner, she points to a big tall house, similar to the party house. Well gag me with a spoon…what do you know? The damn house is yellow!
We ask her if she’s sure this is it. One yes is good enough for us so we help her up the stairs. What happens next is pretty funny. Once atop the stairs, I open the front door, which was unlocked, say “Great, now you’re home!” shove her stupid drunk ass inside and close the door behind her.
“There! Now let’s get the FUCK out of here,” I say to Sausage and Jen. Sausage is finally relieved we can get to Jimmy John’s, Jen can’t believe that just happened, and I just feel all warm, fuzzy and weird inside.
I couldn’t end the night without being an asshole to someone though. So, on the way back from Jimmy John’s we catch some fat chicks trying really hard to traverse the snow in their heels. I yell obscene things at them, and then the bigger one falls. “OOOHHHH!!!” I yell, “She’s down! Get up! Get up!” Jen can’t stop laughing. Then I proceed to actually count until she stands up, as if she’s a downed boxer. I stand there across the way and count all ten long seconds watching her struggle to pull her weight up. We applaud and yell in celebration for her when she finally harnesses the lower body strength to stand herself upright.
Stupid fat chicks.
Please, don’t forget that I helped that hottie home.
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