After work the next day, I hopped into a Lyft and went to Concert Guy’s place to carpool to the concert. He invited me in to his house as he was still “getting ready”. I followed him to the kitchen where he was packing a small cooler with a couple beers to tailgate at the concert with. Classy.
“Do you like Captain Morgan or Fireball?” he asked.
“Sure, occasionally.” What is this, college?
He proceeded to grab empty lotion and sunscreen bottles (the kind that are designed to sneak alcohol into places) and a tiny funnel and poured the booze into the bottles over the kitchen sink while chatting me up. Wow.
“Uhm, I probably won’t have any…,” I started.
“Don’t be silly! Of course you will!” Hmmmm…. At this moment, I could already affirm this would be our last date.
I suggested we grab an Uber or a Lyft to get to the concert, but he assured me he was going to drive. After watching him pour the booze into the lotion and sunscreen bottles, I wasn’t entirely convinced. Nevertheless, we hopped in the car and headed to the concert.
On the way there, we stopped at a mom and pop taco restaurant to grab some food to go. I ordered two chicken tacos and he ordered some kind of plate. The bill was under $15. Simple enough. The place had a “get your own chips and salsa” station.
“I like this place because they give you free chips and salsa,” he informed me. He got a paper bag from the employee and filled the entire bag with chips. The bag could have easily fed 5 or 6 folks. He then proceeded to fill about a dozen of those little ramekin sized plastic containers with salsas, marinated carrots, and peppers. I shared an apologetic nod with the employee watching Concert Guy. When our order was ready, he asked for another plastic bag to carry all the little containers and chips in. So with our $15 order of food and enough chips and salsa to throw a football party, we headed off to the concert.
We tailgated with a couple of beers and the food. (Not surprisingly, there was still about 3/4 of the bag of chips left.) He carefully put the sunscreen bottles of booze in his pocket, and we proceeded in to the concert venue.
He had received comped tickets from his friend that were VIP access which included a secluded patio area near the stage. One of the VIP perks? An open bar. So essentially, Concert Guy took the time to sneak alcohol into an open bar…
Yep, comped tickets and sneaking alcohol into an open bar.
We had a beer in the VIP area and as the opening act was coming to a close, we grabbed another round and made our way to our seats which were in the second section up. To give you an idea, there was the pit, the first section, then the second section.
After a couple of songs, he went to the restroom and came back with another round of beer from the VIP area, “I found us better seats.”
Figuring he saw his friend in the VIP area, I asked, “Oh, did your friend get you different tickets?”
“Nope, don’t need them.”
For those of you that know me, I’m one of those “rule follower” people. I sit where my ticket says. I wait in lines. I do things the way they are “supposed” to be done. I’m hesitant, but he grabs my hand and I literally follow him like a toddler being dragged behind a parent that is walking entirely too fast.
As with every venue I’ve been to, the ushers were checking tickets to make sure only those folks that were ticketed for the section gained admittance to the section. However, Concert Guy decided this concept doesn’t apply to him.
When stopped to show his tickets to get into the lower section, he used some lame line like, “Oh, my friends are at our seats.” The usher denied him so he went on to the next section to achieve the same result…. and on to another usher to get the same result. Meanwhile, I just followed behind him, quietly sipping my beer, and trying really hard not to roll my eyes. Why can’t we just go to the assigned seats and watch the concert?
After his attempts to get better seats were proven futile, he decided he needed to save face and decided we’re just going to stand in the walkway. Just stand there. And watch. I was so uncomfortable.
Lo and behold, within a minute an usher approached us and kindly stated, “You can’t stand here, you have to keep moving.” He paused, “As long as you’re moving, we can’t say anything to you.” Wink, wink. The usher literally winked. Sigh.
Yep. You guessed it. We proceeded to walk slowly back and forth in the aisle about a dozen times. Back and forth, glancing over our shoulders to the left or right to watch the concert. So awkward. The nice usher that told us the “secret” kept giving us an approving smile every time we sauntered by. “Can’t stop you as long as you’re walking!” I felt like an idiot.
“We can just go back to our seats,” I suggested.
“Oh, but it’s a better view here!”
At this time, I’ll admit I’ve had about 3 of those concert sized beers, plus the two in the parking lot so I was feeling pretty good, but clearly not sober. When the concert came to an end, we headed out to his car and… he opened the trunk to grab another beer from the cooler while waiting for the post-concert traffic to ease up. He offered a shot of Fireball. I declined and opted for water. He went ahead and finished the sunscreen bottle.
Now normally when alcohol is involved, I would have insisted on an Uber/Lyft – which is why I suggested we grab a car to the concert in the first place; however, since he said he was “fine” to drive, I didn’t object. (Don’t judge me too hard – I wasn’t the one driving.)
We finally got out of there and when we were about 15 minutes from his place, I pulled up the Lyft app on my phone to call a car.
He asked, “Whatcha doing?”
“Calling a Lyft to meet me at your place so I can head home.”
“You’re not going to stay the night?”
“Uhmmm…. no. I’ve got work in the morning.”
“You’re going to stay the night,” he laughed.
So here I was, not sober, in Concert Guy’s car, with him driving after several beers and a sunscreen bottle of Fireball, and him telling me that I’m not going home after I told him no. Why do I get myself into these situations? Recognizing what could be a less than favorable situation, I “sobered up”, gave a flirty chuckle back, and changed the conversation.
I can’t recall what we talked about. I just know I kept the conversation away from sex, and focusing on laughing and singing along to the radio. My main focus was discreetly keeping an eye on the little car on the Lyft app that was headed to our same destination. It was like playing a video game. Who would get there first? Did I have everything ready to go so I could just pop out of the car and get in the Lyft? I prayed the Lyft driver wouldn’t cancel the ride or have some software glitch causing me to wait longer. I was silently cheering the little car on the app to get there first. Go little car go!
“I gotta take a Viagra.” Out of nowhere he popped something in his mouth from the center console.
What?!?!?! I couldn’t fake a reaction. My eyes were wide open and my mouth agape. I was looking at my phone so I’m not sure if he popped the little blue pill, a mint, or aspirin, but he threw something in his mouth and chased it with water.
“Seriously?!?” I managed to recover.
“Yea, I’ve had some drinks tonight!” he laughed.
I fake laughed back at him. I guess this was a normal thing for him? Six months later and I’m still at a loss for words. I don’t recall the conversation for the short remainder of the car ride. I was keen on getting out of the car.
Thankfully, Lyft won the race and was there when we pulled up. In the most genuine voice I could muster, I thanked Concert Guy for the “amazing time” and said we should do it again sometime. Not so much. We hugged, he tried to persuade me to stay, I “playfully resisted,” hopped into the Lyft, and headed home.