Adventures in the welfare wagon

Sweet Lemon Martinis for all!

I have been reunited with my pearl family! I arrived in the eastern panhandle of West Virginia last  night and hopped in Brit’s car to meet the gang at Brewer’s Alley in Frederick, MD for our little congregation. Those in attendance were Courtney, hospitality guru in the hotel industry, Lindsey, our very own newlywed!, Mara, a self-proclaimed workaholic, and Brit, crazy zucchini! Dinner, of course, was delicious and followed by drinks, gossip, and general rude banter. Highlights being Mara ranting about how much she hates the South to me, who was born in Tennessee and strongly affiliated with Alabama. Also, Courtney looking directly at Brit and saying, “Please, please just grow out your hair.”. Brit has had a pixie cut for about five years now.

The real adventure began as we parted ways with Courtney who was headed back to Baltimore and climbed in Brit’s silver pontiac grand am, which she has christened “the welfare wagon”. The Welfare Wagon smells sort of funny, some of the windows don’t open, sometimes it doesn’t start right away. As we drove through the torrential downpour we also soon discovered the wagon needed new windshield wipers, badly. As we headed toward the interstate I realized the car was aimed directly at an elevated median, which Brit could not see  because the windshield wiper on her side was essentially useless. Part of the rubber had detached and it looked like a lazy black snake was slipping around the window. I began,

“Woah… woah… woah, woah!” I am the least articulate co-captain in history, but we dodged hitting the cement head on. We merely slammed the right tire into it.

For the rest of the ride I used my eagle-eyes to team drive the car, making a point to use full sentences like “You are in the middle of the lanes”, etc. Why couldn’t eagle eyes drive, one may wonder. A specialty drink at Firestone’s called the Jackolantern. It’s Jack infused with fresh pumpkin and spices (I suspect nutmeg and cinnamon) on the rocks. It is the most delicious thing I have ever put in my mouth. At one point, as we slowed to a mere 40mph and careened over a particularly high bridge Brit asked everyone in the vehicle to take a moment and pray that we survived the storm. We did. Immediately, we followed this worship with smoking cigarettes through the sun roof of the wagon and bursting into a round of 

Workaholic Mara needed to be at work at 8am, so we returned her to her car. Since the rain had lightened up, and Brit, Lindsey and I are die-hard degenerates… we decided to hit another bar before calling it quits.

Within minutes of walking into the bar a man I estimated to be in his forties made a beeline for our table, immediately smitten with Brit. She tends to have that effect on people. He claimed to own a lot of property, he said he was a real estate agent, family member of the man who owned our favorite dive bar, an entrepreneur in his own right.Definitely the sort of man who leads with “I have money”, even when that is not the case. He was wearing a blazer with torn jeans and pajamas underneath… Lindsey and I had a field day texting each other about the situation as Brit uncomfortably fielded the conversation with Wrinkles. Our entertainment continued as he pointed to his friends at a near-by table and said,

“That guy over there. That’s my friend. He makes $800 a day directing girl on girl porn films. How do you walk away from that?”

We looked at the group. It was believable. Wrinkles threw some questionable comments my way, by the dilation of his pupils I was certain he was either drunk or high, or both. Then he kissed me on the cheek, without verbal or any other communication inviting this gesture. Brit sprang into action. She darted around the table and explained that assault is defined as any unwanted sexual contact and that was NOT ok. Brit is somewhat protective of her fellow pearls. I took this opourtnity to tell Lindsey about the time I was marginally harassed and when I told Brit about it in the parking lot she damn near ran the assailant over. Such laughs! Brit aspires to be a police officer, which she also mentioned to Wrinkles during his lecture on manners. Wrinkles bellowed that she could not be a cop,

“YOU KNOW WHAT! YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BE A COP! AND YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME FOR WHAT I’VE DONE FOR YOU! I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY ‘THANK YOU DOUG FOR EVERYTHING YOU HAVE DONE FOR ME’,”

Clearly, it was getting ugly. Brit was drinking her Bud Light bottle a little loosely and I was quite concerned it was about to become a weapon. That’s when Mr. Porn with his corkscrew ponytail and his sidekick, Lady Eyelashes intervened and escorted Wrinkles outside. When they returned they explained he was a vet and had PTSD, sometimes things got a little out of hand. They bought us a round and joined our table. Both were familiar with Pittsburgh and openly, though vaguely, mentioned their involvement in the film industry. Lady Eyelashes and I talked about our shared interest in writing. She admitted that she had already achieved one of her goals, to write and star in her own short film. She told me it was five minutes long. Based on the introduction from Wrinkles and the woman’s general demeanor it took my entire good upbringing to refrain from directly asking if her passion project was, indeed, for amatuer erotica. Curiouser and curiouser!

Finally, around two AM our trio realized we had gotten our chaos fix and retired for the night. Though we will be on the loose again soon enough!

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4 Comments

  1. Did you see the business card Lady Eyelashes gave me? I almost forgot about it! I don’t know what to do with it. I kinda want to keep it to show people the crazy girl I met but I don’t need a business card with a pic of a naked woman. Haha!

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