This morning, Tyler Tarver had Sharideth Smith guest post on the topic of her worst date ever. Although mine pales in comparison, I felt I had to follow the trend. So here goes.
Two days after I got back from Air Force tech school, I was reunited with my college friends who had had an entire semester without me. I got back just in time for the Chi Alpha Christmas party, so I'd get to see them all before they went away for five weeks. My friend Tollie was on the phone with his date for that night, Shanice, and I said something to the effect of "Hey, I'd like a date too." Tollie told Shanice to get her roommate, we'll call her "Bianca," to come along as my blind date (only one of those I've ever actually been on) and upsold me by saying I'd be in my Air Force blues and all that.
We bring flowers and get there to pick them up. Bianca's obviously not impressed. Turns out she comes from a military family and knows that an E-3 is at the bottom of the totem pole. They put the flowers back in their dorm room and walked out to my car with us. I was driving a 1994 Buick Roadmaster and was dang proud of my car; once again, she was not impressed.
As we got there, I spent some time saying hey to all of the people I had missed for four months. Bianca sat there. We got through all the basic get-to-know-you information (this was a couple of months before I had FaceBook, so we didn't already know the basic info yet) and the conversation died. Suddenly, Bianca and Shanice were talking -- exclusively. Yep, Tollie wasn't getting any conversation either. I thought to myself at some point, "Is she on a date with me or Shanice?"
The night's festivities included entertainment and some singing. Shanice asked me at some point, "What's your favorite Christmas carol?" I answered, "O Holy Night." Shanice replied, "Wow, that's Bianca's favorite, too." Great, we have *that* much in common. 9:00 rolls around and they both want to bounce. Excuse? "We have to study for finals." At 9pm on a Friday night, of course. No amount of pleading would sway them. "You don't even wanna stick around for one dance?" Tollie asked. No dice. We took pictures and left. I found when the time the pictures came out that my jacket lapel was up. Tollie and I were probably both too cheesed to notice or care.
We walk out to the car, get inside, it will not crank. No lights, no clicky-clicky, no chugga-chugga, El battery esta morte. My cathartic "NOOOOOOOOOOO" as I banged my head on the steering wheel put the last nail into the coffin. After I swept up my dignity into a dustpan, we walked them back to their dorm and returned to the party shortly thereafter, loudly questioning the girls' actions throughout the night on the whole way back. Then I got to dance with a much prettier, much sweeter girl once I returned.
Epilogue: Tollie later told me that she once asked him to take her to dinner Louie's because she was bored, and she spent the entire time on the phone. And this chick was his idea.