Boston Adventures

I'm writing this for posterity, while the details are still fresh in my mind. For specific reasons, I will not reveal the identities of those involved, or certain details that are not my business. It's not my job to put people on blast, just record the events that have made this weekend possibly one of the weirdest I have ever survived.

It was Friday night, July 20th, 2012. The night starts out at a local watering hole that I will call the Tavern. Here are some logistics first:

The Tavern - A place roughly 2 minutes away from where I live.

W.C. - False initials of girl driver who is involved secondarily in the story. Lives about 40 minutes away.

C.B. - False initials of another girl who plays a big role. Lives approximately 2 minutes away from me. Rode to Tavern with W.C.

Other Girl - Third passenger in W.C.'s car. Also lives within a few blocks of me.

So, the evening starts as we meet at the Tavern. It's a good night, I've met this group once or twice through a friend who hired into my place of work at the same time. Drinks flow freely, but I keep myself sober. I had to work the next morning, and while I may have sipped here and there, I ate plenty of food and did not get even remotely "tipsy".

W.C., who gave a valiant effort to not get drunk, ended up losing that battle. We all do that from time to time, I know I have. As the night wore on, people began leaving. Other Girl left with a different set of people who were off to find food. Others decided to call it a night early. It's not that bizarre, not liek they footed us with a bill or anything. People leave off to go on their own quests. It happens.

So the bar closes, and it comes down to W.C. who is far too gone to drive, C.B., Matt and I outside the Tavern. C.B. wants to go to a neighboring town instead of home to her husband. W.C. wants to go home to her children. Neither are capable of driving, and C.B. is pressuring W.C. to take her to the next town over.

Here's what I *should* have done. Called a cab, called C.B.'s husband from W.C.'s phone (I did not have that number), or straight up talked to the cop who was sitting not far from the Tavern.

But no. Being the farm girl in the big city, I think that it can be handled like it is back home. You take the drunk friend to their house. If they sleep on their lawn well hey, they get to explain to the family why. But you can at least get them that far.

Both had to pee. And of course they don't let you do that unless you are a paying customer at any of the businesses, so we convinced them to get into our car, to get them back to our place (again, 2 minutes away), and have them sober up. Once a bit more grounded in reality, we could drive C.B. home on our way to take W.C. back to her car.

C.B. refuses to go up to the apartment. W.C. happily follows Matt up, not wanting to go to the next town over, and thankful she didn't have to drive in her state. C.B. gets out of the car and drops trou in the park. I stayed with her to make sure she didn't just walk off.

C.B. then decides she is missing Adam and wants to go home. At this point she is in the back seat, so I hop in the drivers seat. I should have known when I put it in drive and she asked where we were going that she hadn't requested to go home, she was just rambling drunk.

But I said I was taking her home. My GPS had the address locked in (thank you Facebook) and we set off. She calmed a bit when I said I was taking her to her husband. But not two blocks later, while I am going 30 to 35 mph, C.B. starts flipping out, kicking the seats and screaming. She then opens the door and tries to bail.

She stands on the sidewalk, screaming that I've kidnapped her and that she's trying to get away. I have stopped the car and a passerby asks what's going on. I tell him to please call the cops, and we try to figure out where we were (he wasn't from the area, and I was so turned around and bewildered that I couldn't think).

C.B. gets on the phone and continues loudly talking about how she's being kidnapped, and she stalks off behind a building, then reappears shortly after to smoke on one of the paved stairs.

Several police cars come flying by, lights flashing and stop to see us. Now I'm freaking out. I don't even have a parking ticket on my record. So to see them flying up, hands on weapons and handcuffs out, well... Let's just say if I could have, I would have sworn off all social activity ever, at that very moment.

I point out C.B., and while a couple of the officers go over to talk to her, another two ask me to get out of my car and go over to their cruiser. They ask me all sorts of questions about what's going on, and then administer a field sobriety test. Do you know that being scared out of your mind makes saying your ABC's about as easy as brain surgery?

They put the handcuffs away when I burst into tears, patting me on the shoulder and saying things like "It's alright, we just want to make sure you can drive home." I get it, that was their job. But probably a little tougher than they needed to be on someone with as much street cred as Milli Vanilli.

They got me back in my car, without even needing any of my i.d. or registrations, and about that time I see they got C.B. back on the sidewalk too. Two cruisers have already left, and they tell me I can go. I ask to make sure they will get her home, and when assured they will, I leave.

By the time I make the extremely short drive back to my place I'm in panic mode. Full fledged, ready for a straight jacket panic mode.

W.C. is still there with Matt, trying to figure out what happened in the time I was gone. W.C. by the way had sobered up a good deal by then, but I walked straight past them to the fire escape, chain smoked and called my sister.

Sober enough to drive, Matt took W.C. back to her car at the Tavern (she made it home perfectly safe), and then tried to calm me down. Jen did the heavy lifting, but even with all the assurances, I did not sleep. Now here it is Sunday and I'm finally able to piece everything together thoroughly, and make sense of things.

Again, I'm not here to put anyone on blast. It's not my job to put awful mistakes out there to be judged. But this happened to me, and I need to get it all together and out where I can see it, so that it stops buzzing around my head. The details, when written here, stop getting jumbled, I stop concentrating on the worst of the elements, and I start to see that it was just one weird, crazy night that doesn't have to be repeated again next week.

Shit happens. I have no idea how I could explain Attempted Vehicular Manslaughter and Kidnapping charges on my resume...