the worst of my worst

For some reason, I decided to dig deep into the repertoire and pull one from the tremendously horrible date file. A little back story, Monica was a girl I knew in San Diego a few years back. Her ex-boyfriend was a buddy of mine throughout flight skool. He introduced us thinking I might be a good influence on her and I might like her since she was killer hot. She worked for the Padre’s and we went to all the games for free. Just a little fun, no biggie. I asked Monica if she would be my date for the Navy Ball. The Navy Ball is a formal dinner and dance where women wear gowns and the men wear choker whites. Alright, enough background, onto the goodness.

Saturday I took Monica to the Navy Ball. The date didn’t start as planned. She was to be at my apartment in the afternoon and meet some friends and me before going to the Ball. Friday came and went and she never called to confirm. Saturday morning comes and goes and still no Monica. Finally late Saturday afternoon she calls. With a bit of exasperation she explained how she spent the night in jail. In jail. A DUI. Not a good start indeed. But she still wanted to go. I was already dressed, so game on.

She no longer has a license so I pick her up. She doesn’t say a word. Clearly not in the mood I was hoping for. My friends, Sam and his wife, Pat and his girlfriend, classy kids all of them, arrive to pick us up. I don’t mention the fact she spent the night in jail. It’s not really their business. Besides, you wouldn’t know it. She looked fantastic. Unfortunately, I think the reality of her situation was finally beginning to set in. She lights a cigarette and spewing profanities. Not becoming of a lady, but we’ve all seen worse.

At last we get arrive at the Ball. The set up was outstanding. The entire Radisson teemed with Lieutenants and gowns, wine glasses and laughter. The hotel was set perfectly on the water making for a spectacular view of the setting sun. All of this was wasted on my date. She grabs a wine for the two of us. I’m not about to tell her no, although I can’t help but to think it’s a bit odd considering. Looking back, it is as though the first domino was pushed even before the last is placed. Next we know test tube shots are in order.

Monica had no intention of being social, but that’s to be expected. She doesn't know anyone and doesn’t try. Dinner comes. She is still cursing and behaving completely inappropriate for the situation. We have another drink.

Throughout dinner, the girl starts flirting with my friend Mark who is himself, three to the wind. Midway through dinner we sneak upstairs to the 'Admin Room’. A Navy Admin Room is a suite rented by the squadron to allow the guys to party in a little more relaxed atmosphere. There is an idea of acceptable behavior while at a formal ball wearing choker whites that does not include all out boozing. I suppose the Admin Room is a hold out from the old Navy; the pre-Tailhook Navy. Monica pours herself some vodka. By now her drink count is somewhere between four and five.

I'm sure you see where this is leading. Not me, however, not at the time. We have now been at the Ball for two hours. She finishes her drink and I persuade her to have some desert. I paid good money for the tickets, I wanted my desert. After quickly putting down three bites I’m chasing after her on her way back up to the Admin Room. As we await the elevator in the midst of a crowd of couples and regular hotel patrons Monica starts yelling.

'You people can all f--- off,’ she slurs to no one in particular. Mind you, most of these are just people staying at the hotel. A very nice hotel down town on the water.

'What are you doing? Shut up!’ I exasperatedly whisper under my breath.

'I'm just telling them they can get on the elevator too'.

'By telling them to f--- off?'

'Yeah.’

Now I know she's completely out of control. It’s as though it just hit her all of a sudden. Luckily the elevator doors open just in time to end the beginnings of a new tirade. We make it up the elevator uneventfully, our last uneventful moment of the night. While we walk (well, I walk, she stumbles) to the Admin Room she begins an incoherently, random rambling. Something about how she can't stand Bush lovers or something, I don't know. Somehow, from the elevator to the suite, a whopping six doors, Monica manages to break her wine glass.

We hurry into the room, hoping no one noticed. I fix a drink. She sits down on a chair on the balcony. I'm already tired of the girl. I do my best to forget I brought her. My friends are all filing in; the night looks salvageable until someone points to the blonde on the balcony. Monica passed out in the chair; completely slumped over, drink precariously held in her hand. Oh, oh…oh no, the glass slips from her hand and smashes. Glass number two. I can't believe it. I finish my drink in disbelief. Begrudgingly, I make my way across the room to her chair.

'Baby, wake up and act sober for 30 seconds,’ I whisper. Unfortunately, it was a request to great for her to manage. I half carry her, half lead her to the elevator. I’m praying no one will see us. I am in the midst of the final stage of flight skool and all my friends, not to mention instructors are all around.

The elevator door opens. To my dismay, one of my favorite instructors is standing there staring at me. I manage a wry smile and attempt a look which I hope conveys the only thought in my mind, ‘this girl is a total wreck and I’ve beyond frustrated, beyond embarrassed’. As so often with men, it almost seemed as though he understood and said not a word. The elevator is small and lined with mirrors. Perfect for reflecting on how ridiculous I look holding this beautiful blonde up by the waste. She wrapped her arms around my neck as though she was going to kiss me, completely oblivious to our guest or my growing annoyance. My instructor is cracking up. He’s managing to make it subtle so as not to ruin Monica and my romantic moment. But all of a sudden, this drunken girl on my arm hikes her leg up and wraps herself around me. Then he loses it. The expression on my face must have been priceless. I'm so, so, so embarrassed. I do my best to disencumber myself, not as easy a task as you might expect, before the door opens displaying us to the busy hotel lobby.

'Stay there,’ I order her, as I physically place her in an overstuffed chair in the lobby. I walk to the concierge station, ‘Sir, I need a cab now. Five minutes ago in fact.’ I look over my shoulder to see Monica pulling out her cell phone to make a call.

'Speak up! I can't F---ing hear you.' In horror and disbelief I notice she is talking the wrong way into her phone; mouth to speaker. Her mother is on the line.

Snatching the phone, 'Mrs. Ulmer, this is Luke. I'm taking care of Monica, don't worry'. The same moment her mother is thanking me, Monica breaks her third glass of the night. This one was far and away the most impressive; mostly because she managed to break it on carpet. The bad news was we were drawing the attention of those around us, the good, she no longer had a drink or anything glass.

The security guard, a plump middle-aged woman purposefully makes a b-line for the small commotion. 'Sir, you two must leave; your wife is way too drunk'.

'I know, I'm so sor…’

Emphatically Monica breaks in, 'He's not my husband! We're just having sex'. The security guard’s face turns blush, without a doubt dimly mirroring my own. Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I did not have sexual relations with that woman. I could not believe she said, no, yelled that statement. A family with small kids was sitting in the adjacent couch. All heads snapped toward us.

Flustered, 'Well, whatever your 'status' you need to leave.'

'Not status,' Monica comes back, 'sex.’

'Monica!!! Go sit outside, don't talk to anyone, just sit on the steps and wait for me!' I demand. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I should have seen it all coming. What a disaster. Luckily a lieutenant in my squadron saw what was going on, stepped in and began to run interference while I got her ouside. I walk back to the concierge. 'Sir, we simply must have that cab!'

'I'll call again,' he replied dryly. Profusely, I apologize. Cab en route, I step out to find my burden. I walked outside but she is no where to be found. Not on the stairs. Not to my left. Not on my right. At this point I'm through. Parked in front of the stairs, under the arcade is a giant limousine; a converted SUV. I have a sneaking suspicion where my little drunk date might have wandered. I poke my head in the open door. My lovely Monica had crawled in and slid to the very front of this huge limo.

'What are you doing?' I ask. She shakes her head while stealing Champaign glasses and putting them in her purse. I'm through with her. I'm passed mad; beyond embraced. The limo driver is standing there with a sardonic look on his face as he takes in the ridiculous scene. He is a young guy with bleached blond hair, spiked a bit as though he was getting about ready to go to a Green Day concert. 'Listen man, I'm sorry,' I tell him. 'Can I just rent this thing? I don't care what it costs. Just take her home.’

'Sorry bro, it’s already rented.’

I coerce then drag Monica out of limousine. On the way out, she gives the driver, completely unaffected by the tumult as though it happens regularly, a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. Finally our cab arrives. I literally throw her in and she passes out cold. Now, what to do with her? I can't take her back to her place; I don't know the apartment code or where she keeps her keys. The only option is to let her sleep it off at my place.

The cabby helped me hold her up as I pulled out my keys out and his fare. Seriously, we held her up as she was completely limp. A moment later, she comes to and starts saying, 'Did he tip you? Did he tip you? He never tips. Did he tip you?’ The cabby kept assuring her I did. I guided her down the walkway, up the stairs and into the apartment. No sooner had we stepped through the doorway, when she strips down buck naked, superman dives into my bed and backs out.

We left for the Ball at 7:30; it is now 10:30. Three glorious hours. My friends called, 'Dude, were going out, but we have to come by and get Pat's keys first. We’ll pick you up, you'll ride with us.'

'Sorry guys, can't'. My friends drop by and I can’t help but laugh as I explain that my date is blacked out drunk and naked on my bed. How do you make that sound innocent? Despite their persistence suggesting I leave here there, I decide to stay. I’m not exactly sure what to do, so I cover her up with a blanket, put a bucket out just in case and try to get some sleep myself.

4:30 A.M. rolls around and she wakes. She comes over, wrapped in the blanket and wakes me. 'What happened?'

‘Well, long story short you got drunk and made an ass of yourself and here we are.' She cracked up and asked why she’s naked. No apology. No mention of the previous night’s events. Amazing. Honestly, I hope she has no recollection of it. I hope it’s a complete blank.

‘I've got energy now…’ she says. I turn over and go back to sleep. Monica got up, meandered to my refrigerator and cracked open five beers as she watched Sportscenter and proceeds to pass out once again. Fin.