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. . . A number of people (including most of the staff) don't want to stop. We all head for Steve's house -- less than a mile down a deserted back state highway that meanders (and I mean MEANDERS -- picture a Southern trace road) through the woods. One of the waitresses (Dawn) is on my lap in the front seat. Dawn is sweet and pretty, but I had a GF (who wasn't there) and I was very happy with my GF. It was just a highly enjoyable necessity. . Bob (the driver) drives straight through one of the curves and hits a guardrail (probably only going 25 or so). Dawn being on my lap saved me, but she cracks her forehead on the windshield (luckily the only injury in the car and only a small, very minor bruise). I crack my head on her shoulder and neck (which were soft and warm and smelled wonderful. . Bob is FREAKING OUT. He's a pharmacy tech not too long out of school and he believes that a DUI could ruin his job and maybe his career, too. I calm him down and walk down to a nearby campground's payphone, call a friend with a tow-truck... who gets there and hauls Bob's car away before the police discover us. . We continue to Steve's and party enthusiastically 'til dawn (no relation). . I woke up on Steve's couch and walked home the next morning (if you stay up late enough, 2 PM is still morning. isn't it?) . I went to the bar the next night, spoke with my GF for a little while at one of the tables where she was talking to friends, and sat at the bar to regain my somewhat hungover humanity. . Bob the pharmacy tech came in and started regaling the bar with the story of how I had "saved his ass" after our accident the night before . How I had kept my head whilst all about me were losing theirs (it's a trait that served me well as a medic). . My initial reaction? . "Oh, yeah... we were in an accident last night, weren't we?" . I had seriously FORGOTTEN. . GF approaches 15 minutes later -- mouth set firmly. . Ruh-roh. . "Why didn't you TELL me you were in an accident last night?" . "Um... I forgot? . "It wouldn't have a THING to do with sweet, pretty, warm, wonderful-smelling Dawn sitting on your lap, would it?" If ever words dripped with venom, those did. And, while she didn't use those EXACT words. I could tell they were written ALL over my guilty-for-no-reason unbruised face. . . . She eventually "forgave" me. Forget, though? . . . I imagine if we were still together now 25 years later, I might hear this softly-spoken venom-dripping question some night, "So... ... ... seen sweet, pretty, warm wonderful-smelling DAWN lately?" . . . Due to my drunken stupor, I might have forgotten what happened that night. . . . She probably NEVER would have. . . . :rofl::rofl::rofl: . . .
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