The Girl With the Glasses

Note: This is actually part of a series on my decade-plus quest for a girl named Elizabeth Reid.  But as this is an epic stand-alone story of my drunken stupidity I’ll just tell the story Pulp Fiction-style and leave it up to you to piece together the chronology some other time.

August, 2002

It was a Saturday night, mid-August in lovely San Diego.  I should have known it was going to turn into an ugly night; all the signs were there: Will The Mormon’s girlfriend/former intern/booty call from the Bay Area was down visiting for the weekend, Tripod (all 4’4″, 240 pounds of him) was coming out with us for the first time in like three weeks, and we were starting the night at about 8pm at Elizabeth Reid’s going away party before she moved up to L.A.  And from there we were supposed to go meet up with this girl Will The Mormon knew and some of her friends; I had met her the previous weekend and there was a definite vibe goin’ on.

Will The Mormon was having dinner with Taya, the above mentioned girlfriend/booty call who used to be his intern when he worked at Stanford.  Tripod and I headed down to the beach for Elizabeth’s party, planning to meet up with them there.  We walked in the door and the only person we knew was Elizabeth.  She’d gone back to her natural brown hair color, giving me an immediate flashback to freshman year that put me on edge.  But she gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek and all seemed well.  “Get yourself a drink,” she said, “There’s beer in the fridge and yucca on the porch.”

“The fuck is yucca?”

“Oh, it’s this really good Mexican drink,” she answered and proceeded to lead me out to the patio where there was just a big 20 gallon cooler sitting there.  She opened it up and it looked like homemade lemonade, mostly colorless with lemon halves floating in it with a bunch of ice.  I asked what goes into yucca.  “Oh, four or five bottles of vodka, a bunch of lemons, some sugar and ice.  It’s pretty strong so I usually mix it with some Crystal Light.  Here, try it.”

I opted for beer instead but Tripod decided to be adventurous and try some of it with raspberry Crystal Light.  I gave it a sip and it tasted like, well, raspberry lemonade.  Not a hint of alcohol.  We sat down and started drinking, I mowed through two Coronas in no time while Elizabeth babbled away about things that meant nothing to me. She introduced me to her boyfriend (who I’ve met like three times already) and it felt like a jackbooted Nazi was kicking me in the gut.  This guy is a tool, just like all the other guys she’s gone through in the years I’ve lusted after her.  Tripod wasn’t really drinking too hard because he was on some medication so I took his yucca and started pounding it.  It was gone in like five minutes and I went for a refill, this time straight with no Crystal Light.  Tastes just like lemonade!

It was after 9 now and still no sign of Will The Mormon.  I’d already called him once, but Elizabeth insisted I call him again.  He answered immediately, “Dude, we’re almost there, we’re looking for a place to park,” and hung up.  I could tell he was slightly inebriated.

He rolled in about 10 minutes later with his girl Taya, who is just about the most fun girl I’ve ever met.  They’re both drunk.  She was jumping around shaking hands with people she didn’t know and giving me big hugs and rubbing my bald head.  She confessed they had two bottles of wine with dinner, not to mention what they might have had during the day at the beach.

Now Elizabeth has this friend Abby who’s hot and VERY sleazy.  I mean, this girl redefines the word slut.  My roommate is in love with her, describing her affectionately as a “dirty whore.”  Needless to say, we’d all like to take a run at her, but just recently she’d gotten into a “relationship” with some former major league baseball player who, according to Elizabeth, was dumb as a box of rocks and had an eight year old son.  There had been rumors that the entire dysfunctional family could show up at the party, and just about the time I was draining my third cup of yucca they all arrived.  Tara and I were sitting at a table drinking and laughing and having a grand old time, and of course I was swearing like a sailor because that’s what I do.  (I can’t confirm this, but I think my loud drunk voice was taking over by this point.)  Taya and I were joking about something and she dropped the F-bomb.  Elizabeth came running over to quietly ask her to watch her language with the child around.  Taya looked at me wide-eyes and exclaimed, “What the hell?!?  That’s my first one all night and I get jumped, meanwhile you’re dropping like three effenheimers a minute!”

“Well,” I said, the booze hitting me full force now, “she fuckin’ knows better than to tell ME to tone it down.”  And then I said (and I’m almost certain this was in my loud drunk voice), “Besides, who’s fuckin’ fault is it for bringin’ your fuckin’ kid to a party where you know there’s going to alcohol and drunken assholes like me?”

(Did I mention the dad, the former professional athlete, was mere feet away from me?  And that he was roughly twice my size?)

After that, for some strange reason, it was pretty much just the four of us hanging out.  Will The Mormon and Tripod had another beer, Taya and I had one more heaping helping of yucca and then it was time to move on to the bar.  Elizabeth pretty much ignored me and we didn’t say a proper good bye as I stumbled out the door.

As Doc Holliday said, “And so she walked out of our lives forever.”

So we were stumbling down the street towards the bar (actually, Tripod was more or less sober so he was waddling, the rest of us were stumbling).  It’s only like eight blocks or so to the bar but it seemed like an eternity.  I had refilled my yucca cup before we left so I was weaving along the sidewalk with an open container making quite a scene.  I was so drunk I dropped my drink within the first two blocks, something I never do.  But now I insisted I had to have a drink immediately, so I walked right into the middle of the street and started waving down cars, hoping one of them would be a taxi.  Eventually one of them was and I demanded that everyone clamor in.  Will The Mormon and Tripod were both yelling at me that I’m an idiot, that we’re almost there, but I told them to shut up and told the Somalian cabbie to take us to Typhoon Saloon.  Two minutes later we pulled up at the front door and I paid the $3.25 fare for the four of us.

The line looked impossibly long and I was cussing up a storm, but it moved quickly and in no time we were in.  There was a small cover charge and of course nobody had any cash so I paid everyone’s cover.  But I figured it’s all good because now I’m set for the first couple rounds; I’ll just rotate through everyone else’s tabs.

We stepped in and I surveyed the scene.  There’s some serious ass in this joint!  Within seconds Will The Mormon handed me my old standby, gin and tonic.  Cheapest, dirtiest gin they got, just like I like it.  We started moving for the back room where the dance floor was.  Some guy barely bumped me and I dropped my drink.  (For those of you keeping score at home, that’s two drops.)  I stared at my fallen comrade in horror while everyone laughed at me.  It occurred to me that maybe the yucca had been a little stronger than I thought.  But before I could even get to the bar Tripod was putting a fresh G&T in my hand.  I love that little guy.

We went upstairs and ran into Will The Mormon’s friend, Carrie.  Now, when I had met her the previous weekend she had gotten pretty drunk and was a lot of fun.  (Will The Mormon and I had a great time giving her field sobriety tests all night.  She failed them all, especially the one where you have to say the alphabet backwards; she fell for the oldest trick in the book, saying, “Are you kidding me?!?  I can’t even do that when I’m sober!”)  So I’m expecting drunk, fun Carrie that digs my vibe and wants my nuts, right?  Wrong!  Instead of a hug she shook my hand.  Trying to recapture the magic, I made some funny comment about the backwards alphabet and she said, “I’m the sober driver tonight!”

Now, details are a little sketchy at this point, and I have to say, in my defense, that I am about 90% certain that I merely thought this and did not actually say it, but there are no witnesses so I can’t confirm.  Anyway, what I thought (and hopefully didn’t say) was, “Well that won’t do me no good!” and turned to meet all her friends.  I’d been told she would have three friends with her, two of whom were fairly cute, though the only one I really remember was this big linebacker-lookin’ chick who scared me.  I made a mental note to stay away from her.

So we were up on the balcony overlooking the dance floor, chillin’ and laughin’ and havin’ a good time, when I dropped yet another drink.  (That’s three.)  Tripod just shook his head and told me I was cut off.  I should have listened to him.  Instead, I scoffed and went over to the beer tub to buy Dos Equis from the pretty beer girl.

Will The Mormom and Taya went down to the dance floor to cut it up with Carrie and her friends.  Tripod and I sat on some stools to watch the show for a few drinks.  I can’t remember why I went down to the dance floor, but Taya claims she got my attention when she mimed like she was fishing and reeling me in.  It makes sense that I would be suckered in by something stupid like that in my drunken state.

I stumbled down the stairs and onto the dance floor and started dancing with Taya (duh, why not dance with my buddy’s girl when there’s single girls everywhere?).  She rubbed my bald head, spun me around and smacked my ass, all that fun stuff.  Eventually we started rotating the dance circle, I assumed so that I could end up with Carrie.  Well, somewhere along the way I wound up dancing with this moderately attractive girl who I thought I recognized but couldn’t tell you where from.

The girl, like I said, was moderately attractive.  I’d say a 6.5 on a scale of 10, brown hair and glasses (I’ve always liked chicks in glasses).  Anyways, we’re dancin’ and drinkin’, one thing leads to another, and soon we’re making out.    In the middle of this, Taya came up behind me and started freakin’ me from behind, giving me a good sandwich dance with the other girl.  She was rubbing my bald head and untucking my shirt, reaching up underneath to rub my chest for the other girl to see.  Playing along, I reached back and smacked her on the ass a few times.  She eventually wandered back over to Will The Mormom and I went back to work on my nameless girl.

A little while later I was right in the middle of swapping spit with this girl when Taya started freakin’ me from behind again.  Well, that’s fun and all, but I’m tryin’ to get busy here, know what I mean?  So, without even breaking my kiss I reached back and started smacking her ass again.  I broke my tongue wrestling match just long enough to look back, and through my alcohol blurred vision I suddenly realized I had no idea who the girl is that I’m smacking on the ass!  Not a clue, never seen her in my life.  Taya was a good ten feet away dancing with Will The Mormom.  I quickly turned back to Whatshername and started kissing her furiously just in case the other girl decided she wanted to slap me.

I really have no concept of time to tell you how long this all went on.  I know I had most of a gin & tonic when I hit the dance floor, I know we stopped long enough to hit the bar and get beers before going back to making out on the dance floor.  And I remember when we were almost finished with our beers I spotted Tripod out of the corner of my eye and shoved some money at him to get us yet another round.  So I’m going to guess it was about 45 minutes before the idea first started to come to me that I might be able to nail this chick tonight.  My gears turn fast when I’m drunk!

So we were dancing and my wheels were turning.  How do I seal the deal?  What’s my move?  And then I was hit with utter inspiration.  An ingenious plan, really.  When the time is right, I’ll very seductively reach up and take her glasses off, then move in for the kill.  Pretty fuckin’ good, huh?

So another period of time passed, I’d guess 15 minutes or so (totally guessing here), where I’m dancing and grinding and drinking and kissing, all the while looking for the right moment to make my big move.  I finally decided it’s time, and it probably had less to do with me thinking that she was ready than the fact that my boner was starting to get downright uncomfortable.

I broke our kiss and gave her my super sexy seductive look (otherwise known as my drunken slobbering idiot look), and when she moved in to kiss me again I teased her by leaning just out of reach.  Then I reached out and delicately took her glasses off.

I tell you, there was a look of wonder in her eyes that told me she was mine….

And then I dropped her glasses on the dance floor.

Now, I’d like to tell you that she somehow knocked them out of my hands or something like that, but in retrospect I have to admit that that was probably just drop number 4 on the night.

They hit the dance floor and were immediately kicked away.  I dove to the floor in a frantic search for the glasses.  Imagine me, just retarded drunk, on my knees in the middle of a crowded dance floor, frantically searching for a pair of glasses.  The girl is freaking out, I’m trying to tell her it will be alright, while trying not to laugh at the comedy of the shit I get myself into, and as I’m down there on the floor the thought actually occurred to me: “Dude, just run!  Just get up and run out of the bar!”

Tripod came running up to me, honestly thinking that I was so drunk I had just fallen on the floor.  I explained the situation to him and he started searching the dance floor with me.  The girl was still in a panic, babbling incoherently about not being able to live without her glasses.  Tripod found them maybe twenty feet away on the edge of the floor and came over to hand them to her.  Still on my knees, I reached out and snatched the glasses from his hands, hoping she didn’t see him and would think I found them.  (I love that little guy.)  I gave them back to her, she started trying to bend the frames back into shape while I apologized profusely over and over again and tried to convince her that the lopsided frames looked just fine sitting cockeyed on her face.  Eventually she smiled, gave me a quick kiss, and we went back to dancing.  But I could tell the moment was lost.  I wouldn’t be going home with anyone tonight.

As the bar closed and they start kicking us off the dance floor I turned to Tripod and asked him where Will The Mormom and Taya were.  “They left awhile ago, dude.  I think they got in a fight.”  I didn’t have time to really process this before we hit the front doors and I started trying to say my good byes to the woman with no name.  I went for one last kiss, still futilely hoping to salvage the night, but she was pulled away from my grasp.  In a cloudy drunken haze I looked over to see Carrie pulling her away and giving me the death glare from hell.  And then all in one painful moment it hit me.  I had recognized the girl because she was one of Carrie’s friends!  That’s right, I had been making out for at least an hour and a half with the friend of the girl I originally set out to conquer.

But still too drunk to know when to just shut up and head for the hills, I asked as she was being drug away, “Can I get your number?”

“I’m moving to Colorado in a week.  Bye.”

And so she walked out of our lives forever.



  1. Fucking love it!

  2. That’s one way to make an exit.

  3. Have to wonder…did she decide right then to move to Colorado??


  4. This is what I pictured your girl looking like:

  5. or maybe this:

  6. […] A couple shots, then a stiff cocktail for the shower, and I was feeling pretty good by the time Will The Mormon picked me up at 10.  We rounded up Tripod and headed […]

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