Since I’m back in business I figured I would partake in one of my old, favorite bloggy things to do.
Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop. Play along if you so choose.
This week’s prompts are:
1.) Describe something you're proud of.
2.) Tell me your most humorous wedding experience
3.) 10 reasons why you can't sleep at night
4.) Describe an experience that you wish you could shake from your memory.
5.) Write a love letter to the object of your affection
This week, number four tickled my fancy.
This isn’t a memory that I necessarily wish I could erase from my memory. It was actually one of the most fun nights of my life, what I can recall of it anyway. It’s not that I don’t love reminiscing about this night…the great music, the excessive drinking, the bed of some strange man’s truck, waking up and not knowing where you’ve left your vehicle. It’s just that when I do think back on this night I feel instantly ashamed of myself. I feel like I should hide my face in shame. Like I should try to make up some great excuse for why I felt like it was okay to cruise down that Dallas interstate in the back of a truck going Lord knows where with Lord knows who.
Anyway, here’s the deal.
I’m a HUGE Kenny Chesney fan (as most of you have probably gathered) and for several years in a row me and my faithful sidekick, Rachael, went to a Kenny concert twice each summer. This was something that I looked forward to ALLLLLL year long! We had fun. A LOT of fun. Sometimes more fun than others…
Many years ago, before I met my loving husband, Rach and I got tickets to see Kenny in Frisco, Texas. We stopped about 10 miles out of town for me to get a cold six pack of Bud Light, which I consumed before we made it to our hotel. In my defense, it took us over five hours to get there, but anyway.
I had arranged our hotel accommodations (Rach leaned toward the $39.99 a night type of places), so we had some really fancy digs. Including, a REALLY cute bell boy/valet guy. He asked us where we were from and what we were doing in town and then he gave us his number and told us if we were looking for something to do after the concert to give him a call. And thank God he did. Oh, thank God he did.
Needless to say, by the time we arrived at the concert I was
wasted feeling a little tipsy. I should have quit drinking, but they had Blue Moon on tap, so I couldn’t. I mean how often does THAT happen???

Anyway, the concert was great, as usual and when it ended we were actually thinking about heading back to the hotel to call it a night. That was until we got to the car and Dierks Bentley’s cousin and his buddies were tailgating next us.
DBC: Hey, Ladies! What cha up to tonight??
Us: Oh, not much. Think we’re gonna head back to the hotel.
DBC: Why would you want to do that when you could hang out with us???
Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’m trying to scrounge up the last little bit of good sense that I have left. Us: What’s your name?
DBC: I’m Tyler. I’m Dierk’s Bentley’s cousin. What’s your name, cutie?
Us: I’m
a drunk idiot Beth and this is Rachael.
DBC: Well, Beth and Rachael, we’re taking you out.
Us: Oh, we’re not sure about that.
DBC: C’mon, why not??
(DBC = Dierks Bentley’s Cousin)
Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because we don’t even KNOW you!! Maybe because you could rape us and leave us for dead!!! Maybe because I’m already having trouble walking a straight line and another drink would surely put me over the edge.Us: Ok, why not.
DBC: Sweet! Climb in! (As he motions toward the bed of his truck.)
Rachael and I exchange the “what the hell are we thinking, but he is REALLY cute and you only live once look” and like the
freaking morons fun-loving gals that we were, we climbed in.
And there we were…cruising down the Texas interstate. Destination unknown. In the bed of some stranger’s truck. (In hindsight, why the HECK didn’t these jerks offer to let us sit INSIDE the truck???)
So, we end up at a bar. I was having a great time. But, somewhere along the way one of DBC’s buddies got the wrong idea about Rach. He started trying to hug her and kiss her, all the while whispering sweet nothings in her ear. I, however, was having a great time
making out dancing with DBC when Rachael comes tearing through the crowded dance floor. She grabs my arm and starts pulling me toward the door.
Rach: WE are leaving!!!
Me: But…
Rach: WE are LEAVING!!! That asshole won’t leave me alone!!!
Me: Who? Him? He’s cute.
Rach: We are leaving!!! He’s an asshole.
I had to give up on my new found dreams of marrying into the Bentley family and bid farewell to my new boyfriend. And there we went. Out the door. Into the humid, Texas night.
Rach: Shit! We don’t have a car.
Me: Let’s go back inside.
Rach: No WAY!!!
Me: Well, then. What are we going to do??? Call a taxi?
Rach: No, let’s call Oscar. (Oscar = bell hop/valet dude)
Oh, yes. Great idea!!! Why in the world wouldn’t we call another strange man to come pick us up and rescue us of from the strange men we are currently running from??? Me: Ok, good idea.
Rach: You call him. I’m too embarrassed.
Leave it to me. I quite obviously have no shame.
Oscar: Hello?
Me: Hey, it’s Beth.
Oscar: Who?
Oh, crap. He doesn’t even remember us.
Oscar: Oh, yeah! Beth…and Rachael. What are ya’ll up to??
Me: Oh, not much. Hey, wanna meet us for a drink?
Rach: What??? What are you doing?? I want to go to bed!!!
Oscar: Sure, where are you?
Me: I don’t know.
Oscar: What do you mean you don’t know??
It’s amazing how hard it is to see where you’re going when you’re laying in the bed of a truck.Me: Well, the name of the place is… (I honestly don’t remember.)
Oscar: I know where that is. I’ll be there in an hour or so.
Hour?? HOUR????!!! Heaven help us.
Long story short, Oscar took us back to the hotel like the true
Mexican Southern gentleman he was. Bless his heart.
The next morning we woke up, showered, packed up and got ready to head back to Arkansas.
Rach: Shit! We don’t have a car.
Where have I heard that before??
Rach: Call Oscar.
Don’t you know, that sweetheart got out of bed, came and got us, took us to lunch and then to get our car?? He was the sweetest thing. I mean, what kind of guy does that?? Once. Let alone, twice.
So, there you have it. I’m still alive. I’m ashamed as hell, but I’m alive.
P.S. I never knew for sure if DBC was REALLY Dierk's Bentley's Cousin, but that's what I'm choosing to believe because it makes my story cooler.