Vomit Comet

Brad wrote about someone throwing up in the back of his car, and it brought back a couple of memories...

One night, somewhere around 1978 or '79, Kido and I were going to the drive-in with our friend Don. Don was supposed to drive, as Kido's car was in the shop, and I didn't have a car. Don had to work at the last minute, but his younger brother Billy offered to drive us. So Billy picked us up, and it was off to the drive-in.

Billy had this very cool 1965 Mustang. It was fully restored, and candy apple red. Part of our mission at the drive-in was to try to meet girls, and we were sure this would help. We were fortified with a bag of pot, a case of Budweiser, and a bottle of Southern Comfort.  Today, I couldn't tell you what movies were playing, but then again, who cares what movie is playing at the drive-in?

It soon became apparent that Billy couldn't keep up the party pace with Kido and me, so Billy and I traded places. I sat behind the wheel, and Billy crawled into the back seat to sleep. Let me tell you, Kido and I were in fine form. We were firing on these two girls, and just about the time that we were talking about where to go after the movies, there came a sound from the back seat.

Kido and I looked at each other. "Please tell me that was you", I said.

Kido shook his head, and in unison we both said "Oh, SHIT!" and looked in the back seat.

Yes, Billy had thrown up all over the back seat, and himself. Kido and I debated whether or not to leave with him, but the smell soon made the desicion for us. So I reached for the ignition to start the car... Damn! No keys.

Attempts to find out from Billy where the keys were located were met with incoherent mumblings. It was obvious that one of us would have to fish around in the vomit covered pants for the keys. Kido and I did Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who would do the fishing.

When Kido pulled back the seat to try to go through Billy's pockets he discovered the empty bottle of Southern Comfort on the floor. That dumbass had sucked down an entire fifth of Southern Comfort while we thought he was sleeping! Kido found the keys, and we started home.

As soon as the car started to move, Billy started shouting from the back seat for us to slow down. This was before we got out of the parking lot.

As we drove back to Billy's house, he lay in the back seat, vomiting and moaning everytime we turned a corner. Our plan was to park the car in the driveway, sneak Billy into the basement, and try to get him cleaned up before we put him to bed.

The plan was cancelled when Billy punched me when I tried to get him out of the back seat. He fought off our attempts to get him out and inside his house, so we ended up leaving him in the back seat of his fully restored, candy apple red 1965 Mustang, in a puddle of his own vomit.

This was where his father found him the next morning.

While I was living in Texas in 1986, the wife and I went out with my sister, and her boyfriend (whose name escapes me now...) for my sister's birthday. My sister's boyfriend was driving one car, and I was driving my little pickup truck. We met at a club in Dallas, and started drinking for the early happy hour.

Many hours later, we went to another club for the late happy hour. After several hours of eating & drinking, we drove back to my parent's house for birthday cake & ice cream. The boyfriend was following us, since he didn't know how to get back to my parent's house from the bar.

On the way, the wife and started arguing about something, and we pulled over a block from my parent's house to hash it out before we went in. When we were finished, we went on to my parents house, only to find that my sister and her boyfriend never made it to the house. We waited for a time, and then since I had an 8am class and the wife had to work in the morning, we left to go back to Denton.

As we were driving on the highway, I suddenly realized that the rear window was blowing back into the cab, something that only happens with a side window down. I looked over at the wife, and she was rolling up the window with one hand, while wiping the other one on the front of her blouse. "Why did you roll the window down?" I asked.

"I didn't."

"Yes you did, why did you do it? Did you throw up?"

As her eyes began to fill with tears, she nodded her head. I started to slow down, and pull on to the shoulder of the highway. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to bother you." As she said that, she burst into tears.

I pulled off on to the shoulder, and walked around to the side of my truck. The passenger door, and the side of the bed was covered in a spray of vomit. Working quickly, I grabbed some rags in the back of the truck, and started wiping off what I could. I was pretty mad, at her, and I was shouting at her that she should have told me so I wouldn't have to clean my truck on the side of the highway at 1am. Furious, I continued to wipe the bed, and the door, and the cab.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the wife get out of the truck, and look down at her vomit covered skirt and blouse. Then she began to take them off. The wife stripped down to her bra and pantyhose on the side of I-35E. This is the sort of thing that makes police officers suspicious, even in Texas.

I took off my coat, and wrapped it around her to cover her up. Then I put her back in the truck, and drove back to Denton. The next day, I really would have made it to that 8am class, but I didn't notice that the breeze I'd noticed at the start had carried in little flecks of puke, and spread them all over the dashboard of the truck. After being enclosed all night, the smell in that little cab was powerful.

So I spent the morning cleaning my truck. The wife called in sick to work, and spent the day in bed.

Oh, and my sister? It seems that she was too drunk to realize that she was in front of her house, and she and the boyfriend drove around Carrolton, and Farmer's Branch all night looking for the house. They never saw us pull over.

According to our mother, all of that was my fault...

~Easy

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