Now you didn’t think I was going to tell you how I got there right from the get go did you? Or maybe what happened next… All I’ll say is that I woke up and something sure as hell didn’t feel right.
This story starts on Memorial Day about 6 or 7 years ago, a group of us were headed to East Beach on Galveston Island. Actually… before I get to Galveston, let me back up about 18 hours and give you the run down.
Several of us were set to have a bbq and pool party the night before going to Galveston. Why not spend the evening consuming a bunch of booze getting dehydrated BEFORE spending the day at the beach drinking a bunch of booze getting more dehydrated? Makes perfect sense right?
So in preparation for both events, I decided to clean up my happy trail. Let it be known, I have a happy highway, and it needs to be manscaped. For some unknown fucking reason I decided to get the Bic after it. I never do this, I’ll just clean it up with the clippers… But not this time…. this time I had to give myself the greatest razor burn known to man. From my belly button all the way to the water snake and about 4 or 5 inches wide. Granted, this didn’t show up until the morning of the beach, so I wasn’t affected at the party… I digress.
So we’re all having a good time at the party eating bbq and getting drunk. I start doing flips and dives into the pool. Did I forget to mention this pool is about 4 feet at the deep end. Yea, I hit my head, and thank god I’m still able to type to you all today. That shit jarred something loose. I felt my skull hit, followed by my jaw smashing together and my neck buckling. I popped back up to the surface immediately and blood was pouring out of my head. Great thing about alcohol is that you don’t fear the things that would normally make you pass out (notice the sarcasm – maybe). Anyhow, the medics on hand (my drunk friends) patched me up and I was good as new.
We get up relatively early and I’m greeted with a wonderful itching burning sensation in my nether regions, no not herpes, razor burn. It’s really irritated and to top it off, my forehead has a huge scrape across it and someone is beating my head with a tennis racquet, or maybe it was my brain trying to beat it’s way out of my head for being such a jackass… Either way, we load up all our stuff, met our friends and head down to Galveston.
On the way we get stuck in this hillatious ( <– is this a real word? how do you spell it) traffic, my happy highway had a tanker explode on it and is on fire, a scab is forming and crusting/cracking on my forehead and did I mention I have a hangover with free floating anxiety along for the ride?
We check into the hotel and make our way to the beach/water. I’m so fucking miserable and anxiety ridden at this point it’s hard to even converse or drink a beer. I’m wearing a hat to protect the scab on my head (and conceal it), a wife beater to protect the razor burn on my stomach and nether regions (and yes… to conceal it as well) and I guess I’ll let you know I might have been the whitest person on the beach. All this with mounting anxiety… and the fact that I look like one of the biggest white trash people on the beach equaled a very unhappy Timulator. Yes, I really did just use my made up name in third person.
I made the best of it, but by the evening everyone was getting really sloppy and I still couldn’t get in the groove. We all went back to the hotel, cleaned up and went out on the strand. More riotous ensued, some old bikers got crazy with us, I got in a fight with my girlfriend and at this point I didnt want to deal with all the bullshit. i told my buddy Neil who was our DD that I was going to go lay down in the bed of his truck and to wake me up when everyone was ready to leave.
and went to la la land. When I awoke I could see the night sky and stars, I heard the sound of the truck driving and accelerating. Then I got a weird feeling, something didnt feel right… I sat up and looked around, we were some distance from the bar. I turned and looked at the back window – FUCK – there is a sticker on the back window that I dont recognize. I’m in the wrong truck. To be totally honest, at this point I smirked and then laughed at myself shaking my head. I gathered my composure and reached around to the cab and knocked on the passenger side window. This Asian guy probably mid to late 20′s pops his head out “What the fuck are you doing man” He’s half laughing too but you can tell he’s really confused by this situation. I explain how I must have gotten in the bed of the wrong truck (the trucks were exactly the same other than the sticker) and went to sleep. When they came out of the bar I guess they didnt notice me. The asian guy said they would turn around and bring me back.
We arrive back at the bar we came from. It’s a good thing I woke up when I did, there’s no telling where I would have ended up if I’d not woken up. I hopped out of the bed of the truck on the passenger side. The asian guy opened the door laughing his ass off, I peered inside the truck as I thanked them for bringing me back. The driver looked just like David Crosby and there was an older white hippyish looking lady in the back. I remember her saying “Man, what the hell are you on”. I wasnt on anything, I think the shock of waking up in a truck driving down the road that is not my friends, then seeing a mid 20 something Asian guy with a David Crosby lookalike and a older hippy woman would be enough to throw anyone off for a moment or two.
They were really nice though, the David Crosby guy said he’d wait for me to make sure my friends were still there (which they were) and that he’d take me to my hotel if they were gone… But all in all this was a weird fucking experience, especially the dynamic of their group, and I guess being in the wrong truck didn’t help either.
-Timulator
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At what point does CPR become necrophilia?
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