Aspirin Doesn’t Cure Everything
It was an unseasonably warm October day in the Pacific Northwest today. It reminded me of another stretch of good weather in October a few years ago. Specifically, two days after Craig and I attended the 30th birthday party of his niece.
Let me back up to the beginning and say most evenings that start with champagne end badly. Yes, it was sparkling wine if you would like to be technical. This particular evening was kid free and the party was hosted in a wine shop so we decided to splurge on a hotel room. Unfortunately for us the hotel was not within walking distance.
We were tasked with picking up last minute food platters to bring to the party. This was no big deal as we were only riding two deep in our 7 passenger family van and had plenty of room. Craig would never admit this, but he didn’t know exactly where he was going. He almost missed the turn which led him to slam on the brakes and make a hard left. When he did this, the cargo went flying.
When we opened the rear door, the food was all over. Some was salvageable. Only second best for our friends and family. The biggest problem was the container of ranch dressing that was all over the car. The parking lot was dimly lit and I couldn’t see very well. I did the best job I could cleaning with industrial paper towels. It was going to need a shampoo, but I was dressed up and there was a party going on. I would do it in the morning.
I had never been to a private party at this venue before so I wasn’t sure what the setup would be. I thought it was lovely, but Craig was immediately disappointed. There was no beer. The only thing I could talk him into trying was Argyle Sparkling Wine. The bubbles went right to his head. Before I knew it, he ordered a bottle. And another. And another. And another.
Craig is always the responsible party. That night, we were drunk and drunker.
Our fast and furious consumption without aid of food absorption (I knew how dirty the back of my mini-van was) left us to crash and burn quickly. We took a cab to our hotel. Our romantic evening without the kids left me passed out on the bed with my clothes on to be awakened by a strange noise coming from the bathroom. Upon further investigation it was a naked man in a dry bathtub hollering for “asss-ppp-irin“. In case you were curious, it was Craig.
The next morning was really rough when we both woke up with very little will to live. We arranged for transportation to go pick up our car at the wine shop before we realized Craig left his jacket there. The keys were in the pocket. The wine shop didn’t open again until Tuesday. It was Sunday. Neither one of us were in the shape to try and track someone down so we just caught a ride home.
It took everything I had not to throw up on that car ride.
After picking up our car two days later, I can now offer advice on how to get vomit smell out of any vehicle. Just spill ranch dressing and don’t clean it up for two days. Of course it might start the puking again.
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