Was I Being Too Good of a Friend? (Drunk & Hot Girl)
Earlier in the week I spoke about outgrowing the club scene and that trickled into a real-life conversation with a couple of friends the other night. While I shared my own stories about my drunken alter ego Taco Meat it reminded me of this one time my homegirl Tanya got totally twisted at a party and I took it upon myself to make sure she got home alright. Somehow she wound up half-naked (with socks on) and some of the ladies at the table put my honorable intentions into question, which I protested.
Let me explain…
I was at this party in the city where I pretty much knew everyone there—including Tanya, who had just moved to Queens about a month prior. This was back when I lived in Queens and was still on the party scene, so Tanya and I would often split cabs home when we bumped into each other out and about. She was originally from L.A. and was horrible with directions so I always had to direct the cab to her house first before I got dropped off.
Anyway, when I got to the party I spotted Tanya posted up by the bar talking to my man Rob. I said what up and then mingled throughout the spot. The DJ was okay but he really wasn’t bumpin’ and after a couple hours I was ready to call it a night.
I approached Tanya, who was still seated at the bar, to see if she wanted to split a cab. Clearly bent, she turned around and rambled something about me not being “her father” and she was “fine.”
Based on her slurred speech, though, I was guessing she was anything but fine. Still, she’s a grown ass woman and who am I to try and drag her drunk ass out of there? I was just going to bounce but I realized that Tanya barely knows how to get home sober there's no way she's getting on a train at 12am or direct a cab in this condition. So I decide to post up until she was ready to go.
About an hour goes by and the place starts to thin out and I convince Tanya it’s finally time to break out. She hops off the barstool and can barely stand up, but somehow I manage to get her up the stairs and outside.
It’s hard enough for a Black man to hail a cab in New York, add a drunk girl draped on your arm and the odds are stacked against you even more. The taxi gods must have been smiling on us that night because one pulled up relatively quick.
Tanya immediately climbed in and sprawled across the backseat. I got in and rest her head on my lap, before directing the cabby to the 59th St. bridge. Maybe five minutes into the ride all I heard was the familiar sound of someone heaving. I look down and Tanya's throwing up across my lap and onto the cab floor. As you can guess, the cabby is super pissed.
“Look, man, I’ll pay you extra to clean your car,” I pleaded. “Just keep going.”
Begrudgingly he agreed and continued to Queens, while Tanya slept like a baby.
Although I knew Tanya’s block I had no idea what her address was. She lived in a basement apartment and usually when the cab dropped her off I’d make sure he waited until she made her way through the gate and to the backdoor. All the houses looked the same on her block so I had to wake her up to point out her building.
“Let me just get her inside first and I’ll be right back with something to clean up the backseat,” I tell the cabby.
As I’m carrying Tanya to the backdoor I can hear the cabby saying something but I don’t pay him any mind.
After Tanya locates her keys in her massive purse, I guide her down the stairs and set her down in the first chair I see. Then, I start scouring her barely furnished apartment for some kind of cleaning agent.
I eventually find a roll of Bounty and some Fantastic and I head outside to wipe down the backseat of the cab. I was going to do the floor, too, but that was disgusting swamp of upchuck and was like F that.
“Yo, dude, how much will it cost to clean the car.”
“About $40,” he mumbled, while looking at the backseat.
Ouch!
That was on top of the already $40 cab ride from the city to Queens.
Luckily (or unluckily depending on how you see it), I had exactly $80 on me. So that meant I didn’t have any extra cash to get myself home. Clearly, the cabby wasn’t in the mood to do me any favors so I just handed him the contents of my wallet and he peeled off, leaving my ass broke with a 45-minute walk home ahead of me.
But I’ll deal with that later…
Back inside, Tanya was hunched over in the chair and drooling all over herself. ThatsABadLook.com. I contemplated my actions for a minute before deciding to help Tanya out of her vomit-covered clothes and into bed—alone.
Being the gentleman that I am, I peel off her soiled clothes while keeping my eyes completely off of her and up towards the ceiling. As much as I wanted to, I didn't sneak a peek or cop a feel.
You can believe me or not but that's the God to honest truth. Besides, how attractive can a woman be when she’s covered in her own stomach contents?
Here's where the plot thickens.
With Tanya comfortably tucked in her bed, I headed to the bathroom to clean up and realized what the cabby was saying. Apparently there was a big stream of vomit down the back of my jeans.
Doh!
There's no way I was walking for 45 minutes in January winds with upchuck on my pants. So I rinsed out my jeans in the sink and hung them up to dry over the shower curtain, before heading back to Tanya’s room.
I fiddled around with her alarm clock and set it for 5:30am because I had to be home in time to walk my little brother to school for 7:30. Not looking to put myself in a compromising position, I grabbed a spare blanket and pillow off the bed and made myself comfortable on the floor.
In the middle of the night I was abruptly awoken when Tanya literally walked all over me on her way to the bathroom. She must have still been drunk because she did it again when she came back into the room a few moments later.
By the time the alarm went off, I had gotten only three hours of sleep tops, got stepped on twice and forced to put on my slightly damp pants for my 45-minute walk home in the cold.
Once I got home, I hopped in the shower, changed clothes and walked my little brother to school before heading to work. There's more to the story but I'll end it there for the sake of the following argument.
When I told my friends that story my homegirls adamantly objected to the fact I undressed Tanya instead of leaving her in her vomit-drenched clothes.
"I'll be damned one of my boys takes off my clothes while I’m drunk," one said.
Now, here's where the debate started.
My friends agreed that my intentions were honorable but they sighted questionable judgment on my part in deciding to change Tanya's clothes. Honestly, I would've put her in pajamas if I knew where she kept them but I didn't. I didn't sneak a peek, I didn't cop a feel; I just helped out a friend in need.
I could've easily left her ass at the bar after that you-ain't-my-daddy line. I could've saved $80 if I left when I wanted to. I could've done a lot of things that night, but I felt keeping an eye on a drunken friend and making sure she got home safely rather than leave her in the hands of whatever degenerates were scheming on her at the bar.
At the end of the day, I still feel putting Tanya in her bed (yes, half naked) was the right thing to do.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
What do y'all think, did I handle the situation right or was I asking for trouble? Was it wrong for me to undress a woman when she was inebriated? Do you believe that I didn’t sneak a peak or feel? Would it have been better for me to have left Tanya in her own vomit? Have you ever had to take care of a drunk friend? Would you clean up another person’s vomit? Do you think it’s worse when a woman gets that drunk? Should I have just left Tanya at the club when she said she was fine? Have you ever hurled in a cab before? Does Tanya owe me $80 for my troubles? Was I too good of a friend?
Speak your piece…
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http://sleep-is-the-cousin-of-death.blogspot.com/ Tunde
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