And the winner is …

Picture it. It’s maybe 4 a.m. You’re dead asleep. You have a vague idea that one of your friends has taken a trip to California. Your phone rings. It’s her. Your thoughts are that either something awful or amazing just happened.

Her: I just snuck into Mexico!

Me: Why are you whispering?

Her: Because I just snuck into Mexico!

Me: That’s cool but how are you going to get back into the U.S.?

Her: I don’t know.

If I weren’t in bed, I probably would have rolled on the floor laughing.

Long story short, she traveled to San Diego. You know its history from the great Ron Burgundy. She was told that, before she left, she needed to see Tijuana. She didn’t bring any border-crossing documents so the logical solution was to sneak into Mexico.

I mean, I would have sneaked into Mexico. That’s why we’re friends.

Anyway, she regaled me of her trip in TJ. They worked they way to a strip club for the pure fact that it was strip club in Tijuana. While they were there, one of the strippers kept calling her honey and offered to give her a ride back to the U.S. later. She was with some other people so that didn’t happen. I could tell from that call that, even if she were alone, she wouldn’t have taken the stripper up on that offer anyway because that’s a bad situation waiting to happen. That’s why we’re friends.

This is my favorite late night call just because of the absurdity of how that conversation started. I never thought I would get a call from a friend from Mexico about sneaking into Mexico. I doubt it will get topped because we’re all almost 30. At this point, calling someone at 3 a.m. is sad except for the rarest of occasions.

At the end of the day, though, it’s great to say that it’s amazing to sit back and think that, when your friends are doing some sort of crazy antics God knows where, they pause for a moment and wish you were there so the cell phones come out.

There you g0, Craig. You asked for my top five drunk phone calls.  It’s taken my since August to finish this but there.

Previous: From Atlanta

This one comes from my first year of being an adult as well. Until I got closer to 30, I was fine with getting late night calls from anyone. Nowadays, I get grumpy if I’m up past 2 a.m. unless it’s the weekend. I’m certain this call came on a weeknight while one of my friends was on vacation in Atlanta.

I was fast asleep. It was 3 a.m. My phone rang and I saw it was one of my friends who would only call if something very, very important happened. Something did. Oh yes, something did.

So they were about to go to a late-night club or they were getting food after going to a late-night club. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that my friend’s roommate was apparently passed out on a curb and missed all of this.

So they’ve in line for something when my friend hears shouts and running. An unkempt man cames dashing out of an alleyway pursued by several police officers. Everyone stopped to look at the spectacle. Eventually, the man is tackled and several officers trying to subdue him.

“All of a sudden, they all jump back off of him,” my friend said.

An officer then explained why. He yelled to all who could hear what had happened: the man shat his pants.

Picture it: You’re in a strange city. You’re a little drunk. You see the police chase a man who subsequently empties his bowels in a last-ditch attempt to avoid arrest. Then again, he could have been incontinent. Perhaps he already had the urge to defecate and the press of police didn’t help matters. We may never know.

The bottom line is that I got a 3 a.m. phone call because some strange man shat his pants whilst being arrested in a public setting and I was OK with it because I would have called someone, regardless of the time, if I witnessed the same spectacle.

And that’s why this is my second favorite late-night phone call.

Previous: Welcome to adulthood

Next: From TJ

Before I went out Friday night, I had a conversation with Craig and Shaunelle that segued into me mentioning my favorite late-night phone call. This, being #3, isn’t it.

I decided to write these down because, for starters, it seemed like a great idea (at least to me) and it shows how much has changed in the past five years. I think these (this entry is effectively about a series of calls) were the last. I haven’t had a good drunk dial since maybe late 2007. That coincides with most of my friends fully getting out of college. We’re now adults and we’re boring probably 80 percent of the time now. Also, we tend to plan gatherings well in advance so I’m typically able to attend. And, regardless of my attendance, it’s usually not enough of a drunk fest to warrant dialing numbers with no regard of time.

Also, there is now a trend of some of the ridiculous things my friends see at 4 a.m. happening at 4 p.m. when we’re stone sober. I get midday “This just happened” calls and texts now. But, for some things, we don’t get fazed anymore. Back in 2005, I would have written an entry about a guy standing in an intersection in Mechanicsville waving crabs in the air. I’ve passed prime examples of the decline of western civilization with some of my newer friends and they’ve been confused when I don’t stop and give something a second glance. It’s not that I’m not interested. It’s just that I’ve seen people run from a classic car in horror as it blew up behind them along Route 13 on the Eastern Shore. I’ve had a stranger at the time hand me an unopened beer, pull a knife on me then tell me to drink the beer. In my own residence. You have to do better than be a transvestite who trips and falls out of Third Street Diner at 3 a.m. to surprise me.

And did you forget that I’m a journalist? I deal with the public to the point where I no longer feel bad about ignoring phone messages and emails. Especially the emails. You have no idea. I think the problem is that college raised the bar for the ridiculous.

I think what’s also missing, beyond the relative maturity is the atmosphere. It’s very hard to get all of us in one place nowadays. We used to call all of us being together a Thursday. And that leads to my favorite late-night (series of) phone calls #3: The collective drunk dial.

I was one of the first people of my group of college friends to get a job and move away. They missed me and they let me know that they missed me. On weeknights.

There were a few times when I had to get to work at 8 a.m. or something like that and my phone would ring in the middle of the night. The first thing I would hear is someone yelling “EVERYONE SAY HI!”

Suddenly, it turned into a surprise phone call from your mom when cousins visit and the phone gets passed around the house. I’d get people slurring that they missed me and updating me on things that went on that night.

You would think it would have annoyed me. No. Far from that.

It warmed my heart. Forget that I’m going to be exhausted at work that entire day.

I think what we all want as human beings is validation, a knowledge that people somewhere appreciate us, think about us and want to spend special moments with us. I probably said this in an entry from back then. I loved that through the late night drunken haze, people wished I were there with them. in retrospect, that meant they equated me with drinking but it was still a nice gesture. Whatever.

Although we’re pretty much passed that stage, I generally keep my phone on at night in the event that it’ll ring at some ungodly hour only for it to be some liquored-up people I hadn’t seen in months. Who cares that they might not even remember talking to me the next day. That sometimes incoherent babbling shows that, although we’re separated by time and/or distance, that  connection is still there.

Previous: “The wind feels so sexy!”

Next: From Atlanta

#1: From TJ

So, one of my friends was living well out of Virginia for a while and went out to party a few years ago.

It got out of hand.

I got a call and he or she was in the back of a SUV.

“I don’t know where I am.”

“What’s around you?”

“I’m in the back of an SUV. I was with some Turkish guys. They went into a house and told me to wait here.”

Um … this sounds like a bad situation.

“What did you do tonight?”

He or she went on to describe heading out with some people he or she kinda knew. At some point, he or she (we really need a gender-neutral pronoun; I’m just going to say he the rest of this post) was given some pills and he just took them. He figured it was X and most of his comments were interspersed with uncontrollable giggling.

“The wind feels so sexy! The world feels like it’s covered in velvet!”

I figured he was going to wake up in a bathtub full of ice without a kidney if he remained in the car.

I asked him if he recognized anything at all from his surroundings. He thought so. I stayed on the line, he walked a couple blocks and

“Oh, that’s my apartment building over there.”

“Go to your apartment.” Couldn’t be too sure, you know?

He made it back and is still alive. He also has no recollection most of the night. Thankfully, this turned out well so it was awesome to tell this story to everyone I possibly could the very next day.

And to have the ability to, at opportune moments, say, “The wind feels so sexy! The world feels like it’s covered in velvet!”

Previous: Mom

Next: Welcome to adulthood

#2: From Atlanta

#1: From TJ

Senior year in college.

My mom calls me. I’m at a party. I’ve pretty well gone.

Mom: “What are you doing?”

Me: “I’m drunk!” (In my head: “Oh crap. I just told my mom I’m drunk. I know she knows I drink by now but I just told my mom I’m drunk.”)

Mom: “I’m drunk too!”

Me: “Awesome!”

My mom doesn’t go out very often anymore. I think she had no idea that I drank until I came home after I turned 21 and we bought the same bottle of liquor in the same size and she accused me of stealing her Christmas booze. That instead turned into a bonding moment as we both drank at the kitchen table as our family wreaked havoc in our house. We realized that we have a lot more in common than we thought beginning that night. I think I posted on Facebook that I knew for certain that I wasn’t adopted or something later that night.

Anyway, she drunk dialed me after she went out to a bar. She was proud of herself. She not only stayed up past midnight but there was a dance contest wherever she was and she won. I yelled back that I won a few drinking games and I was going to go drink more.

The conversation pretty much ended there. I then told the party that my mom just drunk dialed me and it was the most awesome thing ever. Because it was.

I never thought in a million years that I would be drunk dialed by my mom. Especially on a night where I happened to be drunk as well. That’s why it ranks number five in my top five favorite late-night phone calls.

Next: “The wind feels so sexy!”

#3: Welcome to adulthood

#2: From Atlanta

#1: From TJ

Being a good person deep down is annoying sometimes.

Then again, as I told Bill, I’m paying penance for all the times someone kept my drunk ass from dying in college.

If that is the case, this may be purgatory. If that is the case, this is the best purgatory ever because I still get to drink.

So I have this bottle of booze. The rules are as follows: It does not get opened until
> Bill/I does/do three (3) chicks at the same time.
> Bill earns a Purple Heart
> The funeral of a certain person
> Another certain person comes out
> I get married

Whatever comes first.

Yeah. it’s like that.

Premature edrunkulation.

I have a friend over who showed up drunk and passed out about two hours ago. Note the time.

When did I start becoming the sober voice of reason/the person who takes care of the drunkies?

Guess I’m paying the piper.