A friend and I were talking last week about our Everclear experiences. The alcohol, not the band. Then we argued about whose was better. I said his, he said mine. You be the judge:
In the 80’s I had this boyfriend, and I use the definition very loosely – he was basically this guy I made out with regularly and he was a complete dick.
BUT, he did give me this fabulous story, so there’s always a bright-side to every experience in life.
I don’t remember if you actually couldn’t buy Everclear in Washington in the 80’s (due to liquor control) or if it was just drastically cheaper in Montana. But nevertheless dickhead was making a run to Montana for Everclear, having gotten money from friends to buy for them as well. He was driving a ….wait for it…station wagon. Probably his moms. (Please note snicker right here..at this pont…).
Of course he had his fishing gear with him, and I can’t snicker at him for that because at that point in my life I kept my fishing gear in my car at all times also.
So he’s driving back from Montana and he’s got the back of station wagon FILLED with Everclear. He sees a stream in Idaho (and if you’re wondering why Idaho is suddenly in the story get a damn atlas) and decides to try his luck. Of course he falls in the stream, because the story would be meaningless if he didn’t.
So he does the only thing he can – he takes off his clothes. Well, except for his underwear and his cowboy hat.
He’s driving back to Washington, naked except for said underwear and said hat and of course he’s speeding because he wouldn’t be dickhead if he wasn’t. And he gets pulled over.
Cop, state trooper, highway patrol, I don’t know what they have in Idaho, but “guy in uniform of authority” approaches the car, looks through the window into the back to see it’s filled with boxes and bottles of Everclear, looks in front seat to see guy wearing only underwear and cowboy hat, pauses, and says, “Just get the hell out of my state.”
Now I will give dickhead props for telling this story, because he doesn’t exactly come off as a freakin’ Mensa candidate in it. And that story does always make me giggle.
So my friend had an older brother in college. And really, any good story involving Everclear should also involve “older brother in college.” I should probably mention that friend isn’t entirely sure it involved Everclear because he doesn’t actually remember what he drank. Also, he was only 17 at the time. Also, it was a university party. Also, there was a cheerleader involved. See? He already wins!
Older brother calls and says there’s a party that weekend and he HAS to come visit for it. There’s music on every floor and enough alcohol to keep a public university afloat for, well, for one night if we’re being realistic. My friend says he was really quiet and somewhat shy in high school, and I can kinda see that. He’s there, he’s wandering around listening to music, having a good time, and then he starts drinking.
As I mentioned before he’s not exactly sure what he was drinking (while telling me this story he kept saying, “No wait it was…, no it was…”). Since the subject of Everclear was what started him on the tale, let’s just assume it’s that.
He wakes up the next morning, in his brothers room, in his underwear. (And let me tell you a breathed a sigh of relief because there are soooo many ways that story could have gone wrong). He can’t remember a damn thing about the night before but his brother is grinning at him. He’s going to head home and with a huge knowing smile his brother reminds him that he has a date that night.
My friends I’m here to tell you that what you’ve heard is in fact true: alcohol makes you ten feet tall and bulletproof (a phrase I’m borrowing from him). He danced, he talked to people, HE GOT UP ON STAGE WITH THE BAND (and did not make a complete fool of himself – he can actually sing) and….this is the best part, he asked out a cheerleader. A college cheerleader. And she said yes. I would have liked to see the expression on her face when he told her he was only 17.
Geez, when I go to parties and drink I just have anxiety attacks. Clearly I have been doing EVERYTHING wrong! From now I’m just going to channel a 17 year old boy and go with not being myself for a while. If you see me getting on stage with the band however stop me – I’m completely tone-deaf.
But then, I mean, at least I’m not the dumbass getting pulled over in his underwear.