Cocaine is a hell of a drug.
Posted by todd Wed, 09 Aug 2006 20:20:00 GMT
(I wrote most of this a few months ago but never posted it)
A few months back I flew through my old stomping grounds of Raleigh, North Carolina and visited for a day. It wasn’t very well planned as the real reason for being on the East coast was for business in Atlanta the following day. In fact, it was so last minute that instead of staying with friends, I wound up staying in some random hotel in an area I knew was safe.
Safe for me that is. Apparently not safe for April, the alleged day spa owner who came running up to me as I was unsuccessfully trying to get into my room using the ghetto magnetic key card reader.
“Someone is following me. They followed me around the deck twice now.. I don’t know who they are.”
Now, there wasn’t anyone in sight, you can’t exactly tell terrified women that they are nuts. I mean, she probably WAS, but wouldn’t you feel silly if she wound up in a ditch afterwards?
She wanted to come into my room, but since it was a 50/50 shot between setting me up to be robbed or her being a total nut job, I told her I’d wait with her down in the parking lot until her friend came and got her.
She was very clearly on a lot of drugs and was talking incessantly, but pretty much unintelligibly.
Ladies, if you are ever trying to get a guy to save you and gain his trust, do not under any circumstances make the following statement:
“God everyone in this town is on drugs, all these strippers… coke… heroin. You think I’m crazy don’t you… You don’t believe me do you?!”
Well, when you put it THAT way.
I’m a pretty nice guy, but.... work with me here. The best response I could muster was “Well April, I don’t know you… so I don’t know if you are crazy or not. I’ll wait with you here if you want.”. I was still a little bit worried that the heroin van was going to roll up and roll me, but this girl seemed too dumb to set me up that well.
That’s all she needed to become my insta-bestest-friend-in-the-world ™. “You really aren’t leaving me…are you??” (not so much a question as it was shock) “I’m TOTALLY going to pay you back for this… I want you to come down to the spa and I’ll give you a free massage… your girlfriend too! Do you have a girlfriend?” She rifled through her bags for about 5 minutes looking for her card before I convinced her to forget it.
“Do you party?”
...
...
I was pretty confident she didn’t mean chocolate cake and party hats.
Beyond that I had NO idea what type of “partying” she meant. It seemed pretty much a toss up between coke, heroin, and prostitution at this point.
Me: “Well, what kind of partying do you mean?”.
Her: ”Well, what kind of partying do you do? I’ve got a TON of coke in my purse. Want some?”
Me: “Ummm.. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow, and that might cause some sleep issues. Thanks though!”
It’s hard to imagine why this girl would be paranoid.
This got me thinking. Why was this girl AT this motel, and if she was so scared, why didn’t she go to HER room? This wasn’t exactly the kind of place you hang out at… just a lousy motel.
“April, what are you doing at this motel?”
“A bunch of my stripper friends are having a party upstairs, but I wanted to leave. And this guy was following me, and I didn’t know what to do so I walked around the building and…..blah blah blah blah”
It had been almost 20 minutes at this point, and it seemed clear that Aprils friends weren’t coming to get her….if they existed at all. With her credibility reaching a peak, and my being late to meet my buddy at the bar next door, I did what any good buddy would do.
I told the coked out stripper that I had to go meet my friend next door, and invited her to come with me.
She was rambling on her mobile phone with some chick bur started to follow me, eventually falling way behind. Apparently cocaine makes it difficult to talk and walk at the same time. I waited a minute and she still wasn’t coming.. just standing in the parking lot now talking. So I waved and told her I’d be inside.
My buddy was disappointed that I left the crazy girl out there, but the bartender seemed rather terrified that I’d considered bringing her in and dispatched orders to the staff not to let her in the door. She never tried though… just disappeared.
So all you Raleigh people... if you find a dead stripper in a ditch... check her purse.
