Tales from the Drunk Side, Episode 3

I hate to admit that I was actually a party to this, but even more than that, I hate that it was my fault.

This disaster occurred about 12 years ago, so please have mercy when you're quick to judge.

It was another Saturday night.

My friends Brenda, Donna and I were yet again, spending our time after clubbing, cruising the streets of downtown San Jose.

(Just so you know, cruising used to be the 'it' thing to do back in the olden days. Now it's stupid and I can see why.)

We were trapped on King Road, moving about an inch per minute. The road was packed with girls talking to guys, guys talking to girls, and like us, the music blaring, sipping on whatever cheap drink we had in the car. I think the culprit was Cisco again, but I can't be certain. After all, I was drunk.

And I was driving.

At one point, I was over the whole driving thing so I asked Brenda to drive instead. We were in Donna's car, but I'm sorry, this girl could not navigate through downtown SJ to save her life, so either Brenda or I always drove.

At a standstill, I hopped out of the car to switch places with Brenda. She moved from the backseat to the front seat, and as I moved to sit back in the car, I happened to look over at a car full of chola's, and (I'm mortified that these words even came out of my mouth) said:

"What the fuck are you looking at, you fat bitch?" Do you believe it?! I still can't believe I said such a horrible thing. Even if it was true. And it was.

So I get in the car, closing the door, thinking I'm all hot shit after putting this girl on blast in front of my fellow cruisers, when the next thing we know, I look back at their little Silver Ford Focus and see 'fat bitch' running toward our car.

"Oh shit!" I said to the girls.

We all look back again and hear a crash.

'Fat bitch' had thrown an empty bottle at Donna's trunk and then ran back to her car filled with the rest of her ho clan.

"What the fuck?!" Donna yelled.

Okay, so obviously, I'm instantly feeling guilty. But when you're drunk, you say stupid shit because you're under the influence of liquid courage.

Without even thinking we all jumped out of the car and started talking a gang of shit to the girls. It was really intelligent conversation:

Us: Fuck you!

Them: No, fuck you!

So, once this all happened, immediately the light turns green, and the 'fat bitch' clan flips a quick bitch to go in the other direction. We couldn't get across the lanes fast enough so we couldn't catch up.

Fast forward to about 2 hours later. We'd scoured the streets looking for those hags without success and wound up at the McDonald's on Santa Clara to get some grub. Donna was still fuming. I'd never seen her like this, ever.

We're sitting in Donna's car, munching on some hamburgers and fries, when God smiled upon us.

What do we see, but the 'fat bitch' posse, directly in front of us, being pulled over by a cop.

It was fabulous.

We don't know what they got pulled over for, but, we were all heated and then the waiting game began.

We were like tigers getting ready to jump on our prey.

Good thing was we'd acquired quite a collection of empty liquor bottles so we were well armed.

Eventually, we see that the cop has given the girls a ticket and is getting back in his car. We slowly crept up to the STOP sign and as soon as we saw the cop was gone, Brenda hauled it right next to their car, and Donna and I bombed their shit with about 3 bottles, in quick succession. It was great!!

What we didn't count on was the following:

We jumped on Highway 101 (again with this friggin freeway), and the 'fat bitch' girls were fast on our asses.

We expected that part, but what we didn't expect, was for them to be armed with bottles as well.

So picture two cars driving at top speeds (90-100 mph), right next to each other, throwing bottles at each other's windshields. What a bunch of dipshits we were.

Long story longer... we drove all the way to Palo Alto from Downtown San Jose like this. To PALO ALTO for fuck's sake.

I must give major props to Brenda for kicking mad ass in her driving skills. And Donna's little Toyota Tercel was on point too. Those cars can haul some good ass.

Finally, after about a 30-minute chase (could have been less, but I was drunk so who knows), we were able to lose those crazy bitches.

And we made it through without anyone getting hurt, except for minor car damage.

It was one of many times that I would have to apologize for my bad behavior.

But hey, if it weren't for my big mouth, I wouldn't have this story to tell.

So, the moral of the story is, if you're gonna go...go big!

Tales from the Drunk Side, Episode 2

It was approximately 1am in San Jose.

Generally around this time, the streets were packed from partiers leaving the clubs, as in our case.

My girlfriend and I had just left Club Vertigo (it's changed names several times since) but weren't ready for our night to end.

We caught up with the cruisers on Santa Clara Street which were heading east toward King and Story road. This was the nexus for youngsters, still drunk from the clubs, to try and hook up with others who had the same agenda.

Why we used to do it, I don't know. Call it boredom.

This evening, however, the cops decided to call it a night. The orange cones and flashing lights, with police standing in the middle of the road, were diverting drivers onto Highway 101.

You could see the disappointment in our fellow cruisers. The next stop would be to reconvene at the local Jack in the Box and party in the parking lot like idiots. Of course we didn't realize we were idiots at the time.

The meters leading to 101 were on (which never made sense to me. It's the middle of the night. Where's the traffic?) and my friend and I were at a stand-still, waiting for the next car to merge.

But the girls in the car in front of us were too busy trying to hook up with the car next to them, that they kept missing the 'green light'.

Now, please keep in mind that we were drunk:

I honked the horn several times, which got their attention, and yelled out the window, "Go!", putting my hands up in the air for emphasis.

"Fuck you!" was their response, to which we responded, "No, fuck you!"

Intelligent conversation going on here.

Next thing we new, homegirls in the car ahead pulled out a fucking gun. A gun!

This is San Jose people, not Boyz n the Hood.

The bitch in the passenger seat, sticks her upper torso out the window, aiming the gun directly at us.

It all happened rather fast, but our instincts got the best of us.

We threw our hands up like Italian gangsters. "What the fuck?!" I yelled.

Then I pulled up closer to their car. By this time, the cars in front (not to mention the guys the girls were trying to hook up with) had managed to merge onto the highway without having their lives threatened.

My girlfriend put her head out the window and yelled "Fuck you!"

This behavior was VERY out of character for her. She was more of a 'let's hug it out, bitch' type of girl. So, I got even more fired up when she was.

We started flipping them off and then eventually, they got onto the highway, the passenger pulling herself back through the window, like a cowering wimp.

All amped up, and officially stupid, once I got onto the freeway, I hauled ass after those bitches, and when we caught up, we continued to give them the one-finger salute, exchanging obscenities.

I don't know what we would have done had we actually been face to face with them, but fortunately, they made a quick exit off of the freeway and we never had to find out.

Tales from the Drunk Side, Episode 1

Picture this:

It was a Saturday night and like most Saturday nights, my girlfriend and I were going to go to a nightclub.

But first, we wanted to get a head start, save money, and drink on our way to the club. Kill a couple birds with one stone.

We decided to take our cheap liquor for a ride through the San Jose hills, listen to some music and sing like no one was listening. We determined that cruising in an unlit area would be the best course of action.

Alum Rock Park was a good choice, so my friend and I drove down the winding street that led into the park at a moderate speed, sipping from our bottles of Cisco (aka Liquid Crack).

Now it was probably around 10pm or so, and of course the park was empty, except that mere seconds after I threw our empty bottles through the car window, we saw the lights of a car creeping slowly behind us.

And then my friend and I realized that said car belonged to a cop.

Holy fuck balls.

Immediately, we began the de-stinking process. While trying to keep our heads still, I rifled through my purse, pulling out my trusty Binaca, spraying my mouth, then spraying my friend's.

By this time, we reached the bottom of the winding road to the parking lot. There's not exactly another way out of the park, except to make a u-turn and drive back up the hill.

So, this is what we did.

And the whole time, the cop crept behind us.

It was clear to us that we were going to jail. Either for littering, drinking and driving, or both.

Our hearts were pounding, and I began praying to the good Lord up above that he get us through this.

This whole time, not once did the cop turn his lights on to pull us over, but just kept a reasonable distance from us, as if watching to see what we were going to do.

By the time we'd reached the exit of the park, both my friend and I were promising God upside down and sideways that not only would we stop drinking and driving, but we would stop drinking all together.

On Alum Rock Avenue, the cop began to reduce his speed even more. So much so, that we were able to get some good distance between us.

I was the co-pilot so at the perfect opportunity, when the cop's car was no longer in sight for the moment, I told my friend to haul ass and get the fuck off of this damn road.

We totally lost the cop and drove to a dimly lit street, where we pulled into a deep-set driveway where the cop wouldn't be able to see our car.

God only knows who's house it was. My friend immediately shut off the lights and the ignition.

We sat there, breathing heavily, grasping each other's hands.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," we repeated in unison.

Finally after about 10 minutes of praying and vowing to become nuns, we made sure the coast was clear and inched slowly out of the unsuspecting resident's driveway, and back onto the main road.

And we didn't drink again.

Until twenty minutes later when we got to the club.