A lot of people have prom horror stories. My prom story is either:
a. one of the funniest nights of your life
b. one of the worst nights of your life
depending on whether you were me or my date.
Actually, I never went to a prom when I was in high school. It wasn't until after I graduated that I attended this prom, and not even with an actual "girlfriend." I was dating another girl at the time who asked me if I'd take her best friend Weezie to the prom because she didn't have a date, but REALLY wanted to go.
I enjoyed Weezie's company and gladly volunteered to take her out on the biggest night of her high school life.
As the evening started everything was perfect. The band was playing Color My World, the mirror ball was magicating the gymnasium and everyone was dressed in their nicest suits and gowns. In fact, just the day before, my mom went with me to Sears and helped me buy my first-ever 3 piece suit - a Johnny Carson no less! A navy blue sharkskin number with a matching vest - all for under $100. I was stylin.
Then, precisely 45 minutes into the dance, someone leaked the news. "There's a party down at the Holiday Inn and they're going to have free booze!"
Like cartoon characters leaving those little cloud puffs behind them, every single person instantly evacuated the gym. The next thing I knew I was standing there with a beer in my hand.
Don't ask me how, but somehow, some dumbshit parent actually rented the ballroom at the hotel and set up an open bar for high school kids. I kid you not. Why they weren't dragged out of there in handcuffs I'll never know.
But what I do know, is that we drank. Everyone drank. Everyone except my date that is. And when you're only 18 and haven't had much experience with alcohol, it doesn't take much to have too much, especially when you're mixing rum and coke, tequila and beer. NOT a good idea.
I think it only took about an hour, an hour and a half at most, before I was no longer able to speak coherently. This is when my date decided to drive me home - in my car of course.
So there I sat in my own passenger seat, grinning from ear to ear while my girlfriend's best friend drove me home in disgust. This was exactly the same time I decided it would be a good idea to barf. Of course because I never normally used the passenger seat, I hadn't considered it a priority to fix the broken window handle so you could actually roll it down in case of an "emergency," such as the one I was having right then.
"Gabloosh!" At least that's the sound I think it made as it bounced off the window and right back onto my 30-hour old Johnny Carson. Every ounce of class I once owned was now running down the glass.
Fifteen minutes later I came stumbling into the living room of my parent's house. My brother Rick was lying on the floor watching TV and looked up to see me standing there dripping in puke with the biggest stupidest smile on my face he had ever seen.
"Hey Rick," I snorted," you mind taking Weezie here home? I don't think she wants me to take her. Oh, and you might want to use your own car."
I don't think I ever saw Rick laugh so hard in my life.
Like I said, funny if you're me (or Rick). Not so funny if you're Weezie.
Oh yeah. My girlfriend dumped me the next day too.
I wonder why?