The Dark Side of Drunk Lubbock-Style: The Conductor and Some Boring Girls

The night begins—as all nights should—with cocktails and beer by the pool. Contrary brings along a trashy magazine so that we can properly discuss The Rich and Famous. We dissect Ashton and Demi, decide that Ashton did Brittany Murphy wrong, talk about Beyonce's abs and fake hair, briefly touch on the fact that there is a Playboy bunny somewhere on the girl on each cover, and move to Kelly Osbourne and how her label dropped her because she sucks. Then Big Guy mentions how Ozzy and his son are having a contest to see how long they can each stay sober.

"Ozzy is soooo old and so messed up," I opine, positioning myself in the deck chair for maximum late-afternoon sun exposure.

"His next album: Ozz-heimer's!" Big Guy declares triumphantly.

Boyfriend of Contrary (BOC) decides to get in the pool as we change topics again. A former co-worker, BC (not to be confused with BOC) is in Malta right as we speak.

"I was pissed off when I heart that, but I'm not sure why," I muse.

"You don't want BC to be happy!" Contrary says with glee.

"No…it's not that…it's that I was jealous. Yes, that's it. I'm jealous. I don't even know where Malta is."

This leads to a discussion of geography. More beer. BOC is having some sinus issues and decides it would be best to decline my offer of a towel and blows his nose on the pool deck instead.

"Don't step in that," he warns us.

Time to move on to Cricket's for more beer and basketball. The middle section of the night becomes a blur of Hefe-Weizen. Big Guy is faking yawns so that we can go home. I frown at him and tell him to look alive. I get up to go to the bathroom and he cops a feel. Ah, I see. The old "I'm tired" act so that we can…go home…well, that's a topic for a different web site.

However, Computer Dude from work is calling Big Guy's cell phone when I return to the table and suddenly there are people on their way over. BOC is pointing out how my boobs aren't consistently nipping.

"Hey, Shakira, you need to cool down your other nipple!" He puts one finger in his shirt and makes it point outward. "Look, I'm Shakira!" BOC, Contrary and I laugh uproariously. It is a few minutes—an hour? Who knows?—later when Computer Dude shows up with his wife, Boring Girl 1, Sales Guy and Boring Girl 2. Boring Girl 2 just happens to be the boss's daughter AND underage.

"How do you like Lubbock?" she asks. If I had a damn dollar for that question.

"It's all right…I'm surviving," I tell her.

"You just like it because you like Big Guy," she croons. Yup, I hate her. She joins the crew at the shuffleboard tables, leaving me with Contrary, BOC and Boring Girl 1. I attempt to make conversation with Boring Girl 1 but she bores me. Something about nursing school in Levelland? I don't know. How many beers have I had? I decide that making fun of BOC would be more fun.

"What the hell are you doing with that hat there?" I slur. "It's way up on your head."

Contrary rolls her eyes. "I HATE the way he wears his hat!"

"Dude, you look like a train conductor," I tell him and reach up to pull an imaginary horn. "Wooo-wooo!"

Boring Girl 1 is staring at us blankly. Doesn't she find us hilarious?

Contrary thinks it's funny, and joins in. "Woo-wooo!" we chant, and then make the sounds of a train on the tracks. "Chuggga chuggga chugga…" Then we practically fall over from laughing so hard.

Boring Girl 1 just has a pinched expression on her face because she has a baby-sitter at home who needs to be relieved. I fail to see how this is my problem and continue to make fun of BOC, who has just been renamed The Conductor. "All AABBBBOOOAARD!" I shout.

"Look at me! I'm Shakira!" The Conductor retaliates, sticking his finger in his shirt again. We're laughing uproariously and Boring Girl 1 just looks mad. Maybe she thinks we're crazy and perhaps dangerous.

We return to BC, in Malta. "No one shaves in Europe," Contrary observes. "Ewww, BC is having hairy underarm sex right now!"

Ewwww. I go to the bathroom and return with two pet peeves for Contrary:

"One. People who leave their tampon applicators on the floor. Throw it away. Two. Boring Girl 2." Contrary agrees.

"YEAH, I played high school football!" The Conductor says, and this statement is riotous. He's been saying it all night. In both my sober and drunken states, I'm not sure what it means. But right now…funny. Then he gets up and does a quick little dance.

"What is THAT?" I ask.

"It's the porn star dance," The Conductor answers. "This is the perfect song for it, but I can't do it in front of all these people."

"THE WHAT? OH, please….PLEASE do the dance," I say, and he refuses. I start banging my palm on the table while yelling, "PORN STAR DANCE PORN STAR DANCE!" Contrary joins in while the Conductor hides under his train conductor hat.

Boring Girl 1 has left. Maybe it was the mention of porn stars? She is busy dragging Computer Dude out the door. Sales Guy is buying shots for everyone, including his boss's daughter. I'm staying far away from that mess. Except Sales Guy won't let me. He runs back to the table, scoops up my tab and sends it away with the waitress. Thank God. How was I gonna pay that $60? But then he scoops me up too. Sales Guy drinks Grey Goose on the rocks. Doubles. And now he's holding me aloft. I have visions of my fragile head and lovely face crashing into the floor.

"Hey, Big Guy, catch!" he yells, and lobs me over to Big Guy, who's not paying attention. Mercifully I am caught. And it's closing time, kids. All ABOARD!!!