Date back to first semester of my senior year of college...
After a night at the infamous “fraternity” parties, (leave it to a New York City university to only have one frat party worth going to) a group of us were walking back home. Almost at our building, a good friends at the time, Benny had his motorcycle, Jenny (named that before me - but I still liked it), parked somewhere with only 1 helmet. He had to ride it back to William Street so he told the rest of the group to “make sure” I got home.
You can always count on those fraternity boys because literally, about a block later, they were no help. My now ex-boss, a type: shifty gentleman, drove past in his car and offered me a ride home. I told him I was fine and only a few blocks away. He persisted.
I persisted, "No, really I'm fine. "
He continued to offer me a ride back. With no help from my "protectors" and finally, to shut him up, I accepted the ride home. When I got into the car, though, he changed plans. He knew this great place to get a bite to eat. What?!...Shit! Drunk and not wanting to cause a scene, after all he was my boss at the time, I explained that I had friends waiting for me. Not caring, he continued driving to this "great little place". Shit! I was totally skeeved out, but like many young girls, I lacked the backbone to say “fuck off” to someone I worked for who had at other times helped me when I needed extra cash.
We arrived at an intimate and chic L’Express on Park Avenue and had it been an intimate and chic date it would have been lovely. But it wasn’t. It was an abduction. Normally, very outspoken, I was at a loss for words. I had tried to be nice. I had tried excuses. But McSkeevy was my boss and I didn't want to offend him, so what was I going to do??? I turned to my bag of tricks and pulled out the trusty white rabbit... lies, Lies, LIES.
If you know me, you know that ordering is a practice that I take very seriously. I search through menus with a fine pick weighing out my options before I come to a final decision. So when I tell you now that I quickly ordered, it is to show with great intensity that I wanted to get out of there. I told him I needed to use the phone to call my friends (lie #1) and let them know where I was. After all, "I was supposed to go straight home."
I called Benny Immediately (notice the capital I), "Where are you?" He sounded worried
"I can't explain the wole story right now, but could you PLEASE come and get me? I'm at L’Express on Park Avenue and..."
"I know where it is. I'll be there in ten minutes. Be ready." He sounded really worried.. And although I could hear some disappointment in his voice, without hesitation, he was on his way.
When I got back to the table, I concocted my lie #2… I told McSkeevy that my friend, Lauren, was "missing" and that no one knew where she was so we were all going out to look for her... you know, like a search party? Since we were all really worried, my friend was picking me up to "go and look for her".
He tried to convince me to stay, but this time I wasn’t having it. I stuck to my story (lie #2). How could you, after all, blame a girl for leaving when her friend is missing somewhere in the jungle of New York? Are you a barbarian? What seemed like minutes later, I heard a blaring motorcycle pull up outside. I hadn't seen Benny pull up, but I "apologized" for having to eat and run (and yes I ate first.), but f*ck that, I ate and ran.
Benny, half fearful - half fuming, asked no questions and just handed me a helmet. I jumped on the back of Benny's bike, my knight in roaring armor, and we rode into the night... or down the FDR. That night we searched for our friend Mary.
Moral of the story: if you're not going to listen to better judgement, make sure you have a knight to save you from yourself and the McSkeevys of the world!
...that and lying can sometimes get you out of fucked up situations.
After reading my story, my friend Casey, a witness of the evening added his own moral:
Moral of the story (part deux by Casey) - make sure to get your grub on, courtesy of McSkeevy, then peace the f*ck out, courtesy of said knight.