Irish Day - Part II

As promised, I now bring you the story of my # 1 Irish Day, 1999.

It was October 1999. I was a high school junior and was still figuring this drinking thing out. My first real Irish Day, I decided to go out Friday night (still the only time I’ve gone out the night before). I don’t remember much about this night, except that I’m fairly certain my Beanie Siegel The Truth album was taken from me (a really under rated album by the way) this night. I could be wrong though. After sleeping at this girls house who Benny Boy denied hooking up with (right), we biked (this is how young we were) back to his house. We ended up going to the high school football game (we hadn’t discovered the joys of drinking all day) and then finally made it back to my house in the West End (still sober at this point). We finally start drinking around 6 at his ex-girlfriends house (Benny Boy had a complex relationship with her. I’m not sure what they’re status was at this point).
After an hour or two of drinking (we were in high school. It didn’t take much) I was pretty buzzed/drunk. Benny Boy’s girlfriend’s friend (we’ll call her The Fro) starts talking to me and within minutes we’re making out (your guess is as good as mine as to how I manage that). Within minutes after that, I’m fingerbanging her in BB’s girlfriend’s bedroom. That’s when luck decided to start swinging the other way. Suddenly Benny Boy and his girlfriend of whatever the hell they were at the time decide they’re going somewhere else. Me and the Fro decide to play it cool and say, “We’ll catch up with you.” Instead of doing something sensible (like asking if we could use her house for another hour), we decided that we still want to hook up, let’s move this little shindig to the beach. While on the beach, we continue hooking up. After 20 minutes of this, she says “I want to have sex, do you have a condom?” (To this day I wonder how I accomplished this. I was about to lose my virginity and to this day I have never gotten easier pussy. I hadn’t talked to this girl in my three years in high school. I knew her, but I don’t think I even said hi. And within 30 minutes of our first conversation, I’m about to lose my virginity.) And that’s where the legend began.
Most guys if they’re going out carry a condom, “Just in case.” Well I had no idea I would be making out with someone never mind having sex on this night. Plus I had never had any thoughts I would get laid anytime soon, so I had never purchased condoms before. Thus began the famed “Midnight Run.” Not wanting to risk losing a chance to lose my virginity, I needed to hurry up. Being that this was cross country season and high school drinking was only a six pack tops, I was in decent shape to go for a run. The West End has the highest concentration of deli’s in the world (a completely non-scientific study) yet none of them seemed to have any condoms. Here was my luck, I can finally get some and the ability to find a condom evades me. I must have stopped at 4 places. Finally, the last deli in the West End had one’s that were able to be found by my drunk ass (several days later I discovered there were available at nearly one I had stopped at). Distance traveled to said deli: roughly a 0.5-0.6 miles. Then I had to run back. Luckily as I said, it was cross country season and I was able to do this pretty easily despite my toxicity.
After quickly hurrying back, I lost my virginity in some of the least spectacular sex ever performed (I would go as far as Ron Burgandy upon laying in the sand: “I regret this decision immediately.” Sex on the beach is overrated, unless you plan on not using a condom (…nothing can go wrong with that, right? Right?)) Normally, this would just be your normal drunken night with Barney story, except for one thing.
I came into school (I typed work first; I have seemed to forget how good I had it going to school) on Monday and everyone already knew the story. To make it worse, this chick wasn’t whack, but wasn’t someone you would brag about bagging. I didn’t call her The Fro in this narrative for no reason. She didn’t have that bad of a body (if you ignore the pastiness), but her voice was approaching Fran Drescher territory. It was the talk of the entire school for the first few days that week (I wish I was lying. It got to a point where I wasn’t even part of the story, the running part was its own. I had to admit that “this motherfucker” was me at one point because the story did not involve a named protagonist). This is how bad it was: my senior year, a teacher gave out Christmas gifts to his seniors which were suggestive of certain “things” they’ve done over the course of the past four years. I received a t-shirt that had “Midnight Run” written on it. It brought down the house. I kept that shirt for years until I finally moved out and I’ve always wondered what my mom thought when she saw it in my drawer.
And what happened to The Fro and Barnes? She somehow got my number and called my house. I don’t know who had a more pained face when I got the message that she had called, my mom or me. After doing my normal “Barney on the Phone” routine (I am possibly the worst conversationalist on a phone in the world), she stopped calling.
Anyway, in the words of Charlie Murphy: “That shit really happened.”