Where Strippers Go To Die...

I am driving home around midnight after a game of pool with a friend, sort of ready to call it an early night, and decide to give Steve a call. Cell phone ringing...

Steve: What’s up?
Me: Just driving home. What are you up to?
Steve: Where are you?
Me: Kings Highway and Ave M. You?
Steve: I am at my parking spot. Meet me here in 5 minutes?
Me: See you then.

Not quite sure why I was going to stop by. I could have asked Steve what this was about, but not only was there a good chance he wouldn’t tell me outright about it, it didn’t really matter, I figured it was better than just going home.
A few minutes later, I get to his parking spot by his apartment. He gets out of his car at a very deliberate pace, walks the 10 feet to my car as though he is walking on egg shells, and gets in...

Me: What happened to you?
Steve: I guess I didn’t tell you yet.
Me: Obviously.
Steve: Well, I have no heels left.
Me:...
Steve: I had to stop by this new place, I was supposed to start working there on Monday.
Me: Let me guess – new shoes?
Steve: Yup.
Me: I did the same stupid this over the summer when I was starting my new job. Tore the back of my ankle to shreds.
Steve: Yes, but did your shoes get covered with blood?
Me: Um... no.
Steve: Didn’t think so. First thing I did when I came home is throw the shoes against the first wall I could find. Which wasn’t the smartest thing to do because it left marks. And worst of all, I came in for nothing.
Me: You’re still getting the job I hope...
Steve: Yeah, yeah. It’s just that as I was on the train on my way there, I got a message from the guy telling me he had a family emergency and I should reschedule. When I get there, the receptionist sees I am having difficulty walking and asks me what’s wrong. I told her that I’d accidentally stepped on broken glass at home. Then she tells me I could have rescheduled regardless.
Me: When I had the bright idea of wearing new shoes for a new job, I had to stop by my old job to drop off the securID (the thing you use for logging on to your work computer at home), walked 10 blocks to the building where I work, meet the people, walk 5 blocks to the other building for a urine test because the lab was about to close, walk back to the first building to discuss the project I was about to start on, then walk back to the other building to do the HR interview, then back to the office because my new boss was taking me and a few other people out for dinner, then walked to the sushi place (luckily not too far away), then walk back to the train and home. Did you walk that much?
Steve: Did you bleed?
Me: No. But it got infected!
Steve: Anyway. Then I was talking to my mother, and when I told her I had no heels left, she asked me who I owed money to.
Me: Huh?
Steve: Apparently, they took a rasp to your heels in Russia if you owed someone money and weren’t paying up.
Me: I didn’t know your mother was so gangster.
Steve: Neither did I.
Me: Did she do time or something?
Steve: Very funny.
Me: Anyway, why am I here?
Steve: Benny called me up a little while ago. Said he was getting picked up by a stripper and going to Long Island with her, and that I was going with him. Which means you are going with us.
Me: When is this supposed to happen?
Steve: Any minute now. BTW, you need gas.
Me: Alright let’s go get gas while waiting for Benny. Actually, let’s pick up my laundry too, it’s on the way.

So we get gas, pick up my laundry, and park my car by my place. Benny calls, and Steve tells him to pick us up at my apartment. He somehow gets hung up on twice in the process. Seems like Benny is getting a head start on the festivities. I have to use the bathroom, so we go upstairs for a minute for me to do that and drop off my laundry. All at a very deliberate pace as Steve, never much of a walker to begin with, is walking slower than my grandmother. After I come out of the bathroom...

Steve: Dude, you didn’t take off your scarf, you didn’t unzip your jacket, but you took off your shoes and put on your slippers.
Me: The cleaning lady was just here.
Steve: You sure know where your priorities lie.

Steve’s phone rings...

Steve: Yup... OK... We’ll be right down. They’re here.

We leave my apartment, arrive downstairs, and see a car with Benny and a girl in it. As we get closer, turns out the girls is actually pretty cute (think an Olsen twin with a nice ass). We get in the car...

Benny: Sylvia, this is Steve, this is Marc. Guys, this is Sylvia.
Sylvia: Hi guys! Ready to go party?

Steve and I look at each other, both thinking this might turn out to be a fun night after all.

Steve, Me: Of course!
Sylvia: We’re gonna go this club in Long Island where I am a waitress. It’s called The Tender Trap. It’s gonna be awesome! There’s gonna be music, drinks, my friends who work there. You guys are gonna get lap dances...

At this point it’s becoming a little fishy. We were under the impression we would go to a bar or club, not a strip joint. I had no intention of getting any lap dances, and Steve isn’t exactly swimming in dough at this time.

Me: Sylvia, if you want me to participate in the festivities, you’ll have to stop by the bank at the end of the block because I need money.
Benny: Yeah, me too.

We stop by the bank, and Benny and I go in. He has a small bottle of juice with him.

Benny: Man, I love this drink!
Me: OK... So where did you find this one?
Benny: At the gym. I sold her a membership. System 30 with $500 down. And a 24 pack of sessions with a private trainer.
Me: Nice job!
Benny: I know!

Back in the car...

Sylvia: OK, we just need to meet up with my friends real quick and then we’ll be on our way. They don’t know how to get there, so they’ll be following us. I just need to stop  by a station to get some gas.

We’re driving to the gas station, music blasting. I can’t hear myself thinking. Sylvia’s cell phone rings...

Sylvia: Hey babe!... Yeah... Meet me at the Exxon station by the highway...OK, see you in a few!

I thought I had overheard a high pitched voice on the phone. Steve leans over to me...

Steve: I am afraid this is going to turn into a sausage party.
Me: I think we should be fine, seems to me it was a chick on the phone.

We get to the gas station. Sylvia gets $20 out of Benny for gas.

Sylvia: You see my coat? [it’s a yellow button down. She turns around.] When my 3 year old nephew saw me in it, he said: “Sylvia, your ass is sticking out!” Is it really sticking out?

Like I said, Olsen twin with a nice ass. After she’s done pumping gas, we move up to wait for her friends. A minute or two later, an black Infinity G35 coupe, with tinted windows, pulls up by the gas station and Sylvia jumps out to go meet them. Two Middle Eastern-looking guys come out of the car. So much for high-pitched voices on cell phones. Sylvia walks back to the car with the two guys...

Sylvia: Guys, this is Benny, Steve and Marc. Guys, this is Dude #1 and Dude #2.

Greetings are exchanged. They are as happy to see that we are not, in fact, girls as we are about the converse. We finally start driving. The girl’s driving doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. Steve and I are sitting in the back. He buckles up. This is the guy who only started wearing seatbelts in the front seat after he got two tickets for not doing that. Incidentally, that happened in my car. A week apart. At the same exact spot, from the same police officer! Following his example, I buckle up as well. At some point later in the evening I realize the seat belt is actually preventing me from going all over the place in the back seat, as Sylvia’s driving was less than solid.
As we’re driving towards the mysterious destination, the music is blasting. One on hand, it’s nice, because we don’t have to talk to Sylvia.

Steve: She’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.
Me: You’ve just insulted tools and sheds worldwide.

On the other hand, I had gotten up at 6:30 that morning for work, and it was around 1 AM at that point, so a brief nap would have been nice. In any event, we’re driving. A few minutes into the trip, I notice that Benny is taking swigs from a bottle of cognac. I had no problem with that, until I see that he’s passing the bottle to Sylvia, who takes a swig as she’s driving. Steve notices this too. We look at each other silently, and I can only imagine that I had a similar look of mild alarm on my face as he had on his. That was the first time I thought maybe I should have stayed home. It wouldn’t be the last.
We continue this way, with them passing the bottle around every few minutes. We should make it there around 2 AM, as per Sylvia. Until...

Sylvia: Why did those idiots turn their headlights off!? That’s just asking to get pulled over!

And what do you know, as she says that, sirens go on right behind Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. They pull over, and we pull over a mile or so down the road, since they had no clue where on earth they are going (we were hoping Sylvia did). Since there is a police car in close proximity, and since she has been drinking, after a modest amount of convincing, Sylvia agrees to trade places with me. Steve and I then proceed to impart to Benny the fact that an open container of alcohol in a moving car is a big no-no in the state of New York, regardless of the fact that the driver may or may not have been drinking. So Benny finishes the bottle (wasn’t much left in it), and tosses it out the window. Somehow, the fine for littering didn’t cross anyone’s mind. Sylvia’s sporadically on the phone with the other car to get updates. Looks like things are going ok. The guys manage to convince the trooper that the light accidentally went off. We are on our way again after about twenty minutes (a bit longer than we expected), with me driving the car. A Toyota Avalon, that either had a busted speedometer, or is one of these cars where you can’t feel the speed. I tried to stick to 60 miles per hour, 5 miles above the speed limit, so as not to risk being stopped again. But every time I look at the dashboard, I somehow manage to find myself doing between 70 and 80. So I go through this process of trying to do 60, realizing I am going significantly faster, and then releasing the gas pedal till I hit 60 again. After a while I am tired of this non-sense and just follow the car in the right-most lane.
Following Sylvia’s directions, which actually were pretty much on point, we make it to the club around 2:15. I park the car, and we all get out to meet up with the other guys and go in. In front of the place, the driver of the other car starts telling us about their pit stop.

Dude #2: So the trooper makes me stop by the side of the road, and I have a small bag of weed on me. Actually, it’s a big bag with a small amount of weed in it. I fold it up as tight as I can, and shove in the spot above the handle you use to open the hood of the car. The trooper comes up and starts asking for the usual documentation. I give it to him. He then asks why we were driving without the lights on. I tell him I have no idea how that happened. He then asks whether we have any weed in the car. I tell him no, we don’t. So he goes, “Are you sure? Cause if I find weed, I am going to beat you two up!” We tell him “Go right ahead!” So he looks in the car, in every nook and cranny, but doesn’t find anything, and lets us go.

Close call. And that explains why we were waiting for them for so long. The moment finally arrives, and we go inside. We enter... And it’s the biggest dump I’ve ever seen. There’s a stripper (luckily she didn’t do all that much stripping) sitting on a stool by the bar wearing a funky outfit. She must weigh at least 275 pounds. There’s a chocolate brown sister on the stage. Quite svelte by comparison – no more than 5’4” (hard to tell with the stripper shoes) and no more than 220 pounds (but not much less). At that moment, she happens to be wrapping her ample buttocks around the dancing pole. Looking further around, I see the opposite end of the female anatomical spectrum. A young girl, probably not even 21, extremely thin, a carpenter’s dream (i.e. utterly flat-chested). Then we see Sylvia run ahead and greet one of her colleagues. At first glance, rather the fetching woman. She waves us over for introductions. We get closer. Looks good from far, but far from good. She is wearing black tights, and a fishnet top over a bra, the latter of which was serving purely decorative purposes. And her face looks like it’s had a once over with drywall. She probably needs a chisel to get that off every night. That was a very attractive woman – 15 to 20 years ago. She happens to live in the same building as a fairly well-known Russian DJ, who Steve has known for many years. Steve and her chit chat for a bit after we all sit down, and, realizing she isn’t getting any lap dances out of us, makes her way to other patrons of this fine establishment. Then Sylvia asks us what kind of bottle we want to get. Neither Steve nor I were planning on laying down however much they were going to ask for a bottle. Of course, Benny being Benny, he says “Let’s get a bottle of Krystal!” Then Steve then tells him in no uncertain terms that if Benny orders that bottle, he and Steve will step outside and Steve will bash his skull in, impaired heels or not.

Me: “Benny, you know she wants you to get a bottle because she will get a commission on it, right?”
Benny: “No! She wouldn’t do that!”

A little while later:

Steve: “You know she’s getting commissions for bringing us here, right?”
Me: “Yup, that’s what I told Benny.”

Not quite sure how, Sylvia brings a bottle of Moet & Chandon White Star, and tells Benny it’s $100. I’ve never heard of a bottle of champagne selling that cheap in New York in a very long time. He obligingly pays, and Steve condones it since it’s actually a fairly reasonably price, considering it’s a $40 bottle. Steve has one flute of it. I don’t like champagne, so I get myself a Grey Goose & Tonic. The Dudes #1 and #2 are having some beer. And Benny and Sylvia go to work on the bottle. After having presumably finished a bottle of cognac between them.
There are a few more girls working the customers. Another anorexic girl. A rather strange looking Eastern European girl. A woman even older than plaster-face. As Steve and I notice her and her bare legs, I tell him: “This reminds me, I haven’t made sirniki in a while.“ (Russian pancakes made with cottage cheese). He turns away in disgust. All of this surrounded by several very bored looking bouncers. Benny and Sylvia are dancing like hamsters on Ecstasy. Sylvia starts taking pictures on a disposable camera she bought at the gas station. Steve and I are wondering whether we could get the 2 guys to go back to Brooklyn with us and leave Benny to keep Sylvia company. They have a look on their face that suggests they wouldn’t be opposed to the idea, had it not been such an un-gentlemanly proposition. Somehow this never gets voiced, and we resign ourselves to suffer till 4 AM or so, which is when most strip clubs in New York state close. Or so I heard. Steve sits back and starts watching a basketball game. I try to catch a glimpse of something remotely pleasant to look at and fail miserably. Plaster-face starts looking quite fetching, by comparison with the rest of the stable. Apparently, Armenian dude #1 thinks so too because he gets a lap dance from her. I catch a glimpse of another girl doing a lap dance, and she has a look on her face like she’s mentally going over her grocery list. So much for service with a smile. At some point, Sylvia attempts to get me to dance with her, makes me get up and take off my scarf and coat. They take a picture of us. I decided to make a half-hearted effort at cooperation and dip her as they are taking our picture. I almost drop her. Accidentally, I swear. I then settle into this mind-numbing mode, trying to ignore the loudspeakers blaring generic dance music right next to my ear. I manage to grab another seat next to a loudspeaker as opposed to right in front of it. I see Benny starting to doze off. I think I also manage to catch a few minutes of sleep. We somehow make it to 4 AM without losing our minds. They start kicking everyone out. Yes, people were willing staying there! All of us jet outside, and Sylvia says she will follow soon. I run into Benny in the restroom. He tells me: “Ugh, I don’t feel so good.” We are waiting outside, freezing our nuts off. Benny starts throwing his guts up. One bouncer starts laughing at him. We are all trying to figure out where Sylvia is so we can get out of this godforsaken place. I go back in to see where she is. Not quite sure what is going on. Seems like she’s just bullshitting. She was probably trying to get her cut for reeling us in. I don’t think she got much out of it, since the tally between all of us was a $100 bottle of champagne, a mixed drink, a couple of beers, and a lap dance. She finally makes it outside, and we can begin heading home.

Steve: “Are you sure you’re ok to drive, I can drive, it’s really no problem.”
Sylvia: “No, I am fine, I’d rather drive myself as this isn’t my car, it’s my parents’ car.”

A variation of the above gets repeated 3 times. I think I also offered to drive again at some point. She gets behind the wheel. We start driving, Armenian guys in tow.

The music is blaring again, or should I say still blaring. Catching a nap would be difficult. Sylvia’s driving doesn’t seem too bad right now, but we’re still on some street in the middle of nowhere with no other cars in sight. The real test would begin once we made it to the highway. Benny is in the front again, and constantly on the verge of passing out. Steve clearly isn’t planning on napping, as he is genuinely scared for his life due to Sylvia’s inebriation. I was giving my best shot at sleeping, figuring Steve would wake me up if necessary. We make it back to the highway, seemingly much faster than it took on the way there. I actually do fall asleep for about 10 minutes. As Sylvia takes an exit between routes, I come awake, at the same time as Benny, who says: “You gotta stop by the side of the road, I’m gonna be sick.” This is approximately the time I open my eyes. Just in time to see our car pull over, and hit a cluster of branches from a tree that was hanging over the guardrail. The hit was located in the middle of the frame connecting the front passenger door to the windshield. Benny gets out to go purge the contents of his stomach. Sylvia gets out to go look at the damage to the car. Steve follows to see what’s going on. I stay behind in the car. The music is finally off so I take advantage of it to try and get a genuine nap. As was later told to me by Steve…

Syvlia: “Oh my god! There’s, like, a dent in the car! You think my mom is gonna notice?”
Steve: “Does your mom ever get in the passenger side?”
Sylvia: “No.”
Steve: “She’ll never notice.”

Benny successfully finishes Operation Stomach Purge, phase two, and we are back on our way. I manage to fall asleep again for about 10 minutes. The next time I wake up, we’re standing still by the side of the highway, on a large patch of grass. I was later told that the car was weaving a bit in the right lane, and Sylvia barely missed a trooper writing out a ticket to a poor sob. We were later going down the middle lane of the highway, when Benny decided it was time for phase 3. So Sylvia, being a nice girl, suddenly swerves to the side, and comes to a rather abrupt stop. Which is probably what woke me up. Benny runs off further away from the highway to do his thing. It’s freezing out, so we’re waiting inside the car. A few minutes later, the trooper Sylvia almost ran over pulls up right behind us. This was going to be fun. As the trooper is approaching, Sylvia jumps out of the car to intercept him, which is an odd thing to do, but she gets away with it apparently. At this point it’s a little past 4:30 AM. Benny gets back in the car, since not only is he sick to his stomach, he’s also only wearing a button-down shirt and sports coat, which isn’t exactly enough to protect him from the biting wind…

Steve: “I think we’re gonna be stuck here for a while.”
Me: “….” [half asleep]
Steve: “She’s wasted, there’s no way he could possibly let her go. Our best hope is to somehow convince him to let one of us drive.”

Sylvia comes back in the car…

Sylvia: “This guy is so nice. I think he’s gonna let us go. I’ve never met such a nice cop in my life.”

OK, this is definitely not the worst thing we could have heard from her. A few minutes later, the trooper comes up to the car.

Trooper: “Sylvia, let me see your registration and insurance.”
Sylvia: [Looks frantically in the glove compartment..] “Is this it?”
Trooper: “No Sylvia, these are Lo-Jack documents. I need the official registration and your insurance card.”
Sylvia: [Keeps looking frantically, now extends the search into the armrest up front] “Just give me a second, I know it’s in here…”
Trooper: “It’s OK Sylvia, take your time, I am gonna go check a few things, and when you find it, just come and show me.”

Sylvia is becoming rather agitated…

Sylvia: ”I know it’s in here! The were here last time I was stopped!”

Steve and I share another alarmed look.

Sylvia: “Are you sure this isn’t it?”
Steve: “These are for the Lo-Jack. Has nothing to do with what we need. Where else could it be?”
Sylvia: “I don’t know! It was here!”
Me: “Could you call your mom and find out?”
Steve: “It’s 5 AM in the morning!”
Me: “So?”

Sylvia: “Hi mom… Could you tell me where the registration and insurance documents for the car are?... No everything is fine… I looked there already… No, I am fine, out partying with friends… OK, go back to sleep. Bye.”

Great.

Sylvia: “What am I gonna do?”
Steve: “It’s not a big deal. The worst that’s gonna happen is the trooper will write you a ticket for driving without insurance or registration and you will just send in the ticket with a copy of the documents and it will go away, no fine or anything.”
Sylvia: “But… But…”
Steve: “Really, it’s gonna be ok.”
Sylvia: “OK.”

A minute or two of frantic panicking on her part ensues.  Her cell phone rings. It’s her mother.

Sylvia: “… No everything’s fine, I am out with friends… No, I just wanted to know what make and year the car was… Yeah, I’ll be home soon… Go back to bed… Bye [Hangs up the phone] I hate this. I never lie to my mom.”

Considering the fact that her mother didn’t question why she would need to know the make and year of the car at 5 AM in the middle of partying with friends, I kinda realized where Sylvia is getting her stellar intellect. The apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree. At this point, the trooper comes back.

Trooper: “Did you find it?”
Sylvia: “No.”
Trooper: “Don’t worry about it, come with me now.”

Sylvia gets out and follow the trooper closer to his car. I am still trying to catch some shut-eye. Ben is suffering pretty quietly, just periodically moaning, “Bro, I drank way too f-ing much.” Steve turns around furtively, trying to catch a glance of what’s going on.

Steve: “Not good. He’s administering some sobriety tests.”

Sylvia comes back…

Sylvia: “Oh my god, he’s the nicest guy ever. He gave me all sorts of crazy tests I couldn’t do. But it’s ok, we should be out of here shortly.”
Benny: “I’m sorry baby. This is my fault. If I didn’t ask you to pull over this wouldn’t have happened.”
Sylvia: “No, it’s not your fault, it’s nobody’s fault. If it’s anyone’s fault, it mine, I should have been more careful.”

Through all this, the Armenian guys are standing a little up ahead, waiting for us. This whole thing has taken almost an hour now, it’s well past 5 AM at this point. The trooper calls Sylvia again. They’re talking by his car. Now Steve is just plain watching what’s going on there. A second trooper car pulls up…

Steve: “Uh-oh, that’s it, we’re screwed.”
Me: “What do you mean?”
Steve: “When a second car pulls up, that means an arrest is about to happen. They can’t arrest someone on their own.”
Marc: “Great. I so should have stayed home…”
Steve: “No we REALLY have to hope he’s gonna let me or you drive the car home. Great. He’s putting handcuffs on her now.”

The inevitable happened. I was mentally kicking myself for not making her let one of us drive. So was Steve I am sure. And I am REALLY sure, so was Sylvia. After a short while the trooper comes up to us…

Trooper: “Alright guys. The reason we let the other car wait for you is so you guys could catch a ride home with them.”
Me: “Have you seen the car they’re on!?”

OK, I didn’t really say this, but I REALLY wanted to, because I knew who was going to end up in the bitch spot, i.e. middle seat in the back – I actually didn’t even know how much of a bitch I was going to be. I remember sitting in the back of a G35 a couple of years ago when Steve was considering buying one. I vaguely remember it being anything but roomy.

Steve: “Officer, can I approach for a second?”
Trooper: “Of course.” [he really was a nice guy, actually]
Steve: “It’s a really small car and we are 3 big guys. Is there any way we can drive Sylvia’s car home?”
Trooper: “Each county has the option to come up with whatever rule it wants with respect to that. In Nassau county, vehicle always gets towed.”
Steve: “Any alternatives?”
Trooper: “I can ask the tow truck to take you guy and drop you off at the nearest gas station and you can take it from there.”
Steve: “I see. Thank you officer.”

Great. I definitely should have stayed home. We go over to the guys, and break them the good news…

Steve: “Guys, we’re sorry, but it looks like we’ll have to ask you to give us a ride home. She’s getting arrested, and they’re towing the car?”

At this point they get out of the car and approach the trooper. A conversation ensues along pretty much the same lines as we just had when we got the news. We all go back to their car and get ready to start suffering. At least I got ready to start suffering. I then look inside the car and notice that there’s a plastic tray in the middle of the back seat. Great. Benny was barely awake and could throw up at any minute, so he definitely got to sit in one of the real seats. And while I’ve got about 4 inches on Steve in height, he’s got about 40 pounds in weight. So for all our sakes I decided to suck it up and go in the middle. Let me tell you, it was about as comfortable as it sounds. The one saving grace was that there was no ridiculously loud music blaring in the car…

Dude #2: “Man, what’s gonna happen now?”
Steve: “They’ll take her to a holding cell, and considering that it’s Friday night, or rather Saturday morning, she probably won’t get out before Monday morning.”
Dude #2: “They can do that?”
Steve: “Yes they can. Trust me, I found out the hard way.”
Me: “Isn’t there a maximum out of time they’re allowed to hold you?”
Steve: “Yes, 36 hours.”
Me: “So there’s no way she will be staying there till Monday.”
Steve: ”That’s 36 hours after they charge you. They can hold you for 72 hours prior to that.”
Me: “She’s screwed then.”
Steve: “Yes she is. I feel bad for the girl. First she messes up the car – did you see the dent she made? It’s huge! Then she gets arrested. Poor girl.”
Me: “I have no pity for her whatsoever.”
Steve: “Not even a little bit?”
Me: “No. She knew what she was doing getting in the car drunk. We asked her to let us drive. She made her decision, now she has to live with it.”
Steve: “You’re a cold-hearted bastard.”
Me: “Probably.”

At this point we’re nearing 6 AM. It’s looking like we’ll be home in not too long. We’re driving fairly peacefully. And then… I smell something burning. I wait a while. I still smell it, now audibly making sniffing noises…

Steve: “Yup, I know, I smell it too.”

Fuck. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse.

Me: “Dude, I think you should stop by the side, I think you’ve got a flat tire.”
Dude #1: “What are you talking about?”
Me: “I smell burnt rubber.”
Dude #1: “I think you’re wrong. Can’t stop now anyway.”

Awesome. If the right rear tire blows, with the car as loaded as it is, it promises to be really fun. So we keep driving.  After a few minutes, we start hearing a DUM- DUM- DUM- DUM- DUM.

Me: “Dude, you definitely have a flat tire, don’t you hear the noise?”
Dude #1: “No, I don’t hear anything!”
Dude #2: “He’s right, you gotta pull over.”

So luckily, or maybe not that luckily actually, we were driving by the spot where another road merges with the one we were on. So there is a triangular strip where no cars drive. We stop there. Everyone except Benny gets out. The dudes start digging in the trunk or the jack and the wrenches. I think to myself for hopefully the last time, I should have stayed home. I can see in Steve’s eyes that, even though all these events are sort of amusing, he is almost at the point where he wishes the same thing. Since we have to jack up the car, we make Benny get out. He doesn’t like it one bit. He gets out, goes a little further back, and gets working on phase 4, but with as much gusto as the previous phases. I have the distinct impression he is puking on his own shoes, but I have been past the point of caring about anything but getting home for about 45 minutes. So dude #2 goes to town on the jack. He clearly does it wrong, but the car is going up, so I don’t pay too much attention to it. The tire comes off. We inspect it, and there is a nice tear in it. On top of the fact that it’s as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Steve thinks it’s because it’s an old tire. I think it may have something to do with the extra 600 pounds in the back of the car. I check out the left rear tire. That one seems to have reasonably well-defined treads. They get the flat tire out of the way and start replacing it with the donut. The car isn’t high enough yet, so dude #2 keeps jacking it up. This is where things get interesting. As dude #2 is doing his thing, dude #1, whose car it is, decides now would be a good time to put the bad tire in the trunk. Now, these are sports tires, rather wide. So they don’t go into the trunk easily. Dude #1 gives it a shove… And yes, you guessed it, the car destabilizes, and falls off the jack. Onto the jack! I give the jack a kick. Yup, pinned under the car. Lovely. It’s a miracle dude #2 didn’t get hurt. All the while, cars are flying by at high speed within 10 feet of us on both sides. I take Steve aside…

Me: “So how are we getting home now?”
Steve: “You got AAA?”
Me: “Not since I got my BMW, which comes with roadside assistance.”
Steve: “Any of you got AAA?”
Dude #1: “Nope.”
Dude #2: “Nope.”
Steve: “So are we calling a car service?”
Me: “Are you nuts!? It’s gonna take forever. Call your brother.”
Steve: “Are you nuts? It’s frickin’ 6 in the morning! And where do I tell him to come pick us up? Exit 27 on the Sunrise?”
Me: “We should go to the banya [Russian bath house] tomorrow.”
Steve: “Yeah, if we’re not in bed with pneumonia.”

Steve and I start thinking about how to get home. The dudes start thinking about what to do with their car.

Dude #1: “Let’s try to lift the car off the jack and continue replacing the tire.”
Me: “No way, the car is too heavy.”
Steve: “Let’s try, what have we go to lose?”

Steve and dude #2 grab the car by the body right where the wheel was a few minutes ago. Dude #1 gets ready to pull the jack out. I get ready to say “told you so.”

The two of them lift up the car pretty easily, and dude #1 gets the jack. They put the car back down. They inspect the jack. Dude #2 tries to turn the little thingy with his hand, and can’t.

Dude #2: “I think it got bent out of shape when the car fell on top of it.”
Steve: “No, hold on, use the wrench to turn it.”

OK, it works fine. Now, the plan is to make the jack as flat as possible, lift the car again, and put the jack in position to continue with the tire replacement. I am somewhat less skeptical this time around. I become downright optimistic when I realize that if this works, I’ll get home to my bed sooner than if we have to wait for alternate transportation!

Dude #2: “Alright, before we do this, gotta put the parking brakes on so the car is less likely to move.”

Good, now we’re actually using our heads. I wasn’t very useful, since by that point  I had been up almost 24 hours, not counting the catnaps. But everything went fairly well. Donut was on. We pile back into the car. Benny, owing to his stylish attire, is shaking uncontrollably.

Benny: “Bro, I think my body is in a state of shock.”
Me: “Benny, you’re not in shock. You just had too much to drink and now you are very cold. You will warm up in a few minutes. Try to get some sleep.”
Benny: “Bro, you don’t understand! It’s not because I am drunk, I am in shock. And now I can’t fall asleep.”
Steve: “Why can’t you sleep?”
Benny: “What if I don’t wake up?”
Steve: “Shut up, you idiot. You’ll be fine. Now try and get some sleep.”

I, of course, was back in the bitch seat. After five to ten minutes, I lose sensation in my legs. Luckily, we aren’t too far anymore. At least it’s nice and warm after the biting cold outside. Then again, I really need to empty my bladder. On the flip side, we can’t go too fast. We tell dude #1 that he should go no faster than 40 miles an hour because donuts aren’t supposed to be used at speeds higher than that. Dude #1 is apparently as anxious as I am to get home because we do 55 most of the way. We find out that they will be going somewhere not too far from where Benny lives and agree to drop him off, and Steve and I decide that I will drive Steve home as he lives 5 minutes away from me and the dudes have been more than nice enough this evening. They drop us off by my place around 6:35 AM.

Me: “I am gonna stop by my place use the bathroom.”
Steve: “Sure. I am gonna go get some coffee at the corner bagel store. You want anything.”

I felt like crap. I thought I might be coming down with a cold.

Me: “Earl Grey tea. Light and sweet.”
Steve: “You mean with milk?”
Me: “Yup. I always drink that when I am sick.”

When I make it back downstairs to the shop, Steve still hasn’t gotten the order. There were a couple of people in line in front of him. I walk around the shop while waiting. In the fridge, I see crepes filled with cherries. I am strongly tempted to get them as breakfast when I wake up, but in the end I do not. We get our beverages. Get to my car. I drive Steve home. We’re there by 6:45 AM. We wind down on the parking lot in the back of his building for a little while, talking about lots of things. I finally get home a little past 7 AM. I am still frozen. For the first time in years, I decide to sleep in pajamas. It felt good. I woke up at 3 PM.
What a night. I hated almost every single minute of it, but to be honest, if given the choice, I’d probably go through it again. Steve says he’s glad I was there with him because otherwise no one would have believed him.