It was a Saturday. Excitement was in the air of the movie theater. Not because we were working and it was busy, but because that night, those of us 18 years old and older were going to tour the Cambridge bar scene and to see our manager's band play at one of the bars.
The car was due to leave the theater at 8:00. I arrived promptly at 7:55 (because I offered to drive us in the convertible, may it rest in peace) with my hurr did (in a fauxhawk! Stylin'!), and my clothes were bangin' (graphic tee and jeans that give me some semblance of an ass). Maria, Angela and Katie meandered over to the golden car (I'm crying as I write this) and we were off.
But we weren't on the highway long, when cries of, "I'm hunnnnngry!" emanated from the backseat. I turned off the Mass Pike to go to a rest stop with TWO drive-throughs! We stopped first at McDonald's. As the driver, I was in charge of ordering. Katie very politely told me her order, Angela politely declined, and Maria climbed over my seat, shoved her head through the window and screamed, "DO YOU HAVE ANY HASHBROWNS?!"
Once the drive-through worker's ears stopped bleeding, he said, "No, we only have those at breakfast." At this point, it was 8:30. At night.
"What do you MEAN, 'You don't have any hashbrowns?!'" Maria continued berating the drive-through employee.
I butted in,"...and a large order of french fries."
We picked up our food and the occupants of the Fagmobile (Waaah!) clamored for coffee. So, we went to the Dunkin' Donuts drive-through next door.
"Do you think the McDonald's is gonna call Dunkin's and warn them that there's a car full of assholes coming their way?" Katie asked. I had to laugh at her summation of the behavior of my friends. Young adults? More like old kids.
We eventually stopped harassing minimum-wage earning fast food workers. After I went the wrong way down a one-way path, we were back on the highway on the way to Boston. Maria was playing DJ and we decided on "Disturbia" by Rihanna as our song of choice. Car rides with me are often very musical and involve white girls (which is a term that includes myself) dancing.
This song always reminds me of driving to Boston, anyway:
1. Because the chorus has a line about driving through a city.
And 2. One night, on the way home from meeting some friends in Boston, I had the top of the Mustang down as I pulled up to a stoplight. "Disturbia" was the song playing at a loud volume when a taxi pulled up next to me. This taxi was filled with old, drunk, gay guys. The one in the backseat on the passenger's side rolled down his window and screamed, "Haaaay! My friend wantsth to talk to youuuu!" The old queen's friend hung his head in shame. Sadly, this isn't the first time I've received attention from men who are old enough to be my father.
Anyway, we parked the car and entered the bar. Two large "x"'s were drawn on my hand and the mingling began. We saw old friends and had the time of our lives, while the other three people in this bar (on a Saturday night, remember) listened to the lonely girl on stage perform an acoustic cover of "Cry Me a River" by Justin Timberlake. It was almost sad, as if she were actually asking us to cry her a river for her lack of talent. I can almost guarantee you she cried a river when she got home, due to the sparse amount of applause she received.
Our friends Sarah and Sarah stepped in next, already in a state of advanced inebriation. I pulled out a 5 dollar bill to buy a drink, which was fascinating to Sarah D., due to the size of the purple "5."
"It's just like... FIVE!" she remarked.
I turned away from her drunk spectacle and watched Liam's band's set. They played a great show with lots of energy and we congratulated him after. Everyone settled in for the next act: A Screamo band from New Hampshire. ...Okay.
I watched their set with a new focus. Liam caught me staring. "Are you checking out the drummer?" he asked, pointing out the unattractive drummer with long, greasy hair and no shirt on.
"No," I said, "the guy who keeps posing with the guitar." My friends, disgusted with my unusual timidity with guys, eventually threatened to go talk to him for me. Luckily, they didn't have to get up! He came by our table to buy an EP from Liam.
Before I continue, let me explain something. Sarah L. is one of my best friends. So I mean it with love when I say that she has very little tact when she's sober, let alone when she's hammered.
"Hey! SIT DOWN!" she commanded, motioning for him to sit down between us. She chatted him up and tried to get me to join in the conversation. But I was hesitant, because I couldn't tell which team the tall, dark and handsome bassist played for.
I later found out, after googling his band (and telling the band's facebook that the bassist is totally cute), that he was engaged to the lead singer. Who is a girl. Needless to say, I hung my head in shame.
Our group ran into the bassist a year later at a different bar for a different show. I could tell that he recognized me, due to the fact that he kept shooting me creeped out looks all night. In my defense, his band got up on stage and performed a hardcore cover of "Paparazzi" by Lady GaGa, which is about as gay as it gets.
Liam's band was headlining that night. While I was still feeling kind of awkward in the crowd, no one was more awkward than the two gay guy-one Asian lady sandwich on the dancefloor at the end of the set. So I felt a little better.
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