This assignment wasn’t easy for me – I haven’t been on a date in 30+ years. But after pondering it of course one came up. There’s always one.
I was in college and my roommates and I were invited to a party with blind dates at a military college. No names here, but think about it. Doesn’t that conjure up the picture of those luscious cadets in uniform, looking all hunky? Believe me, those guys are models hired for the brochure. No one from the same universe as those hunks was there. I’m 5′ 7″, on the tall side for a girl (at least back then) but my date came up to my boobs, which were much perkier prior to nursing two kids.
— Aside to say that later he and I became good friends. He was fun to talk to and hang out with, just not for dancing, and he had no control over this party —
Anyway, the legal drinking age back then was 18 because my generation had reared up on its hind legs and said, if we can’t vote or drink, you can’t draft us! We still have the vote but some time without my notice the drinking age drifted back up. So there was drinking, a lot of drinking. I was, as usual, the designated driver. I was born with the job and it’s not really that bad. I could act as stupid as everyone else, but I could remember it the next morning and didn’t have a headache.
The plan for the evening apparently was to get completely bombed and ‘get some.’ Note for any guy reading this – that is definitely the wrong order of activity because some things don’t work at peak performance when one is bombed. But I digress and it has nothing to do with this particular memory.
I have no idea if such things as fire codes existed at that time, but we had to have broken it by at least a couple hundred people. I do remember standing in line at the women’s room for quite some time only to discover when I got inside that due to overcrowding, girls were also peeing in the sinks. Can you tell what a great time I was having?? After three or four hours of ear shattering music, no place to sit and the inability to hold a conversation, I’d had enough. After locating my roommates—who couldn’t hear me and I did hate to shout “Let’s get the hell out of here!” at a volume that could be heard—I leaned over and took the cigarette out of one of the girls’ hands and took a puff. That got their attention (and still remains the only puff I’ve ever had on a legal cigarette – but that’s another story) and we headed out, dragging our drunken cadets behind us. Thanks to us, they were some of the very few cadets who weren’t walking squares as punishment the next week. I do wonder if they remember they’d had dates . . .