Corporate Peon: Memories

Sunday, July 03, 2005


Some of the best times turn stupid when you look back on them. Sometimes you just have to ask yourself, "What the FUCK were you thinking?"

My best friend, Liz, had a party after our high school graduation. The fun was at her dad's lakeside cabin in Podunk, NoDak. She handed maps out to everyone and we expected a good turnout.

Us girls and our various boyfriends got out to the cabin early. We had liquor with us, of course, and some to share, but it was largely BYOB. During the day, we took the boat out and lounged around. Played some pool; drank. People started coming by at all stages of the day.

Liz's dad had said that if people drank, they needed to surrender their keys, which he then put on a long length of chain and locked up. He kept that chain with him in his car, which he slept in that night, down by the entrance to the driveway.

We partied like rock stars for a good portion of the night. Once things settled down a bit, people scattered to their various beds. People brought tents, and I'm sure there was quite a bit of shagging going on in the outdoors that night. By pure luck, I snagged the last empty bedroom for myself. It was right off of the hottub room, in the basement. Nice and dark, clean queen bed.

Brian - was that his name? - crept into the room soon after I had crawled under the covers. We had met that night, which was strange, as he was a friend of Liz's bf, who I was close to - and hit it off. He held up his sleeping bag and asked if I'd be okay with him sleeping on the floor.

Au contraire! I made a deal with him to share the bed, and soon after, we started gettin' our groove on.

After an appropriate amount of time, we fell asleep, snuggled together, as the night air was rather chilly. I was pretty damn content, despite the constant noise from the hottub. People were still enjoying the water and their beer, and were randomly throwing bottles around. Despite that, I slept soundly until I heard the swearing from just outside the room.

Seems Lance had climbed out of the hottub to use the bathroom upstairs. On his way back down, he noticed a big pile of glass on the ground. He jumped over that pile only to slice his toe off on the pile he landed on.

That's right. He sliced part of his big toe off.

I heard the commotion and walked out of my bedroom. Everyone who was awake was mostly drunk and thus, incompetent. I wasn't much better myself: I didn't realize at the time that part of the toe was missing; I just realized that he was bleeding quite a bit. Like that scene in 'Die Hard,' where my hubby Bruce is dragging his bleeding foot into the bathroom and pulling glass hards from it. That's what I had to deal with. Well, I thought, if we can't stop the bleeding, at least we can stop it from getting everywhere, right?

I got Lance positioned on his back in the bathroom, toe dripping into the toilet. I stayed with Lance, trying to get the fucker to stay awake. I held stupid conversations with him, shook him, anything, just so he wouldn't pass out. He started complaining of the cold, so I brought him a sweatshirt of mine.

I got someone else to stay with Lance and got down on my hands and knees, scrubbing blood from the steps. Eventually people started waking up, and I said fuck it - I was cold and tired and wanted Brian's arms around me again. So back to bed I went.

When I woke up again a few hours later, people were convincing Lance to be taken to the hospital. They put his foot in a plastic bag, since it was still bleeding, and wrapped his toe in...well, in something, and his friend drove away. I think they managed to reattach the toe; he was on crutches for a while, but eventually healed. And I got my sweatshirt back on the day we moved; I still have it.

My girls and I (and our boyz) stayed out at the cabin for another day or so, enjoying the freedom and fun.

Turns out, Lance's parents sued Liz's dad for medical expenses. Nice, eh? Coulda been a whole lot worse, though...

Stupid Lance, ruining a perfectly good, somewhat illegal party.

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