Thursday, January 03, 2008

You never heard it from me but there’s a breach in the hull of the truth

I was about to embark on the treacherous Kelly Drive not long ago when a friend (I call him Frederick) in the passenger seat of my '92 Sable pointed out something profound. A car driving in front of us had the queen of all vanity license plates. It was a young college-aged girl driving a pinkish Ford Focus with the license plate reading (prepare yourself, hold on tight, protect your privates, cover your ears and scream, etc.) LIZASTER. That's right: LIZASTER. I pulled up closer to get a good look and the young woman seemed miserable. I was expecting a crazy party girl in oversized sunglasses and a North Face Jacket. I was expecting a red head smoking a Marlboro Light with the window down while blaring Dropkick Murphy's. This license plate didn't seem fitting for the driver. She stared ahead as the day got dark and was unaffected by the beauty of Kelly Drive. She should have been jumping up and down in her padded movable seat to the sounds of Kelly Clarkson. So I devised a theory on this person because it's more fun than doing your job under some fluorescent sun.

We are going to assume that her name is Liz. She is a white, 22-year-old college senior who lives in the dorms, but visits home often. She started out in college as a well-behaved honor student who was still attached to stuffed animals and American Girl dolls. One night, early into her freshman year, a girl living down the hall invited Liz to her room for some drinks and extended and invite to an off campus party. (Nothing like a night of vodka and orange Gatorade to prime yourself for the latest off campus romp) Liz was scared but she wanted friends and a boyfriend. She had only made out twice before and was ready for a third. She thought this opportunity could garner friends and someone's tongue writhing about. She drank once in high school after the prom, where she encountered her second make out session. (Her first was at a dance, unwillingly, freshman year of high school) She acted drunker than she really was to wane the peer pressure. She got somewhat wasted, didn't black out, and started making out with her date in someone's closet. Her make out partner tried to get a finger blast in, but was denied immediately by Liz.

Liz was a good girl, always was, but tonight was the night when she would get obliterated drinking vodka and orange Gatorade from Burger King cups. Liz drinks her first cocktail consciously. She makes a mental note of the taste, which is vile at first, but then she eventually agrees with all of her new friends in unison, "You can't even taste the VODKA!" After the first cup one of her new friends starts blasting 'It Wasn't Me" by Shaggy off of her playlist and the all-girl dance party starts. Liz knows her dance moves are terrible so she sticks with a subtle hip thrust and slow head nod. "GO LIZ," shouts one of the girls. Liz thinks she is being sarcastic and immediately asks for another drink like she is an experienced drinker who asks for drinks all the time. She thought about asking for it 'on the rocks' but figured that would sound too forced (Good choice Liz). She takes down her second drink much faster than the first and now she is grinding up on a bunk bed to the bumping bass of Nelly's 'Ride With Me.' The girls sing the song together as the third cup is poured and they begin to put on their makeup for a group of upperclassmen boys patiently waiting around the keg for some freshman girls to come to their off campus party. This term 'Off Campus' scared Liz a bit. She didn't think she was ever going to need to step foot off campus to have fun, but tonight she embraced the fear.

So by the fifth drink Liz is ROPED, but doing a good job maintaining her balance and speech, which is even more assuring as the girls grab their keys, shut down the computer and head out of the dorms. One of the girls mentions that they are going to Tucker's house. Tucker plays lacrosse and loves it, loves steak, and loves what he calls: 'freshMEAT.' Tucker and his friends have been drinking ICEHOUSE out of a keg since the early afternoon and they are….as many of them proclaim throughout the day, "Ready to get their dicks wet." If only Liz knew that's what these boys were up to.

The girls arrive at the party acting wasted. Some of them really are wasted but most of them are putting on a show. They quickly make their way to the keg in a tight group, giggling the whole way. Red cups are distributed and Liz is dying to say something about how dirty the whole process looks but keeps quiet. She diligently fills her cup so she doesn't look like an amateur. She observes the room and notices about 20 sets of eyes leering at the group of young, fertile, and apparently drunk college freshman. This is unsettling for a moment until one of the girls hits the dance floor and starts bouncing to the sounds of 'Juicy' by Biggie. The rest of the girls join the brave dancing girl and start moving their hips. The group of girls is quickly joined by Tucker and some of his lacrosse teammates, who are reciting the song word for word as they work to cop a feel and laugh at each other's attempts. Liz feels the bulge of a midsection rubbing against her butt and is shocked at first. One of the girls shouts, "GO LIZ!" Liz doesn't think she is being sarcastic this time and starts dancing at furious pace. A junior lacrosse player is now draped around Liz's back as she finishes her first cup. It went down like nails, but she says she will have another when the junior asks if she is thirsty. She asks his name, Nathan, and they engage is meaningless conversation for a while. He is doing most of the talking, about himself, and she nods like he is talking about his first encounter with a ghost. As the night goes on Liz gains a confidence she never had before. She is moving at the speed of light, but not bumping into anything along the way. Her dance moves are no longer awkward and she has suddenly become and expert drinker. It's time to show everyone who she is so she notices a coffee table in the middle of the party, which seems like a perfect mini dance floor.

Liz hops up and starts dancing like a burning protestor. Her friends started to cheer her on and the boys start screaming, "Show your tits! FRESHMEAT! Show your ass!" Liz for some reason thinks showing her butt is more appropriate than her breasts and starts to wonder if the word Freshmeat is a reference to her college status. She stops wondering, bends over and pulls down her jeans to reveal her backside to the crowd. The guys erupt in sophomoric nature and ask for more. Her friends look at each other in shock and grow slightly jealous that she is getting so much attention. One of the boys runs by and slaps her on the butt, a move that a sober Liz would detest. Liz laughs it off and Nathan grabs her hand to help her off her new brave pedestal. He looks into her half open eyes and asks her if she wants to see his bedroom. She complies and they make their way upstairs.

Liz falls several times going up the steps, leaving Nathan shocked and excited. He knew she was drunk, but not this roped. She makes her way into his room, a newborn 4-legged animal adapting to the forest floor, and flops on the bed. Nathan immediately begins to make out with her although she is having trouble maintaining balance even while lying on his bed. His sheets and pillow smell like he hasn't washed them for weeks. Liz notices this and her tongue grows silent. He is plowing away snake style, but she has nothing. She begins to feel sick like the night she ate to many spaghetti-o's at a sleep over in the 4 th grade.

Liz jumps off the bed so quickly that the springs rejoice. She flies down the hallway looking for a bathroom. She doesn't miss the toilet or throw up down the hallway as you would expect in a story like this. She gets every last drop in the toilet, notices how cool the DNA stained tiled floor is, and falls asleep. About twenty minutes later Nathan notices this piece of Freshmeat and immediately grabs a digital camera. He sneers and snaps for about five minutes and hooks it up to his computer. Being a student in the age of facebook and Myspace he immediately starts sending the photos via text to party goers downstairs.

The herd of co-eds comes flushing up the steps to stare at the passed out Liz dreaming of 4th grade sleepovers. She would rather be partying like the good old days, making bracelets and pot holders while watching Grease on VHS with her friends. One of her dorm patrons decides to pick her up and take her back to her bed. Liz is placed quietly on her bed next to an array of stuffed animals. She is still dreaming of those sleepovers until she is awaken at about 8 a.m. by the girl who was nice enough to carry her home. Her friend tells her about how wild the night was after Liz left. One of the girls ended up in the same spot as Liz around 2 a.m.

Liz and her friend make their way to the dining hall for some eggs that look like her vomit from the evening before and toast from a toaster than can hold about 100 pieces of toast at a time. They sit with the rest of the girls who attended the party and everyone giggles and gasps as they talk about the night. Then the attention is turned towards Liz. "YOU GOT WILD last night Liz!" "Did you hook up with Nathan? Look out he can be a real CREEP." "Do you remember showing everyone your butt?!" GRANNY PANTIES!" The girls erupt in laughter. Liz replies with a courtesy laugh. "More like LIZASTER!" shouts one of the freshman girls as she finishes her Orange Juice. The crowd explodes…even Liz is giving more than a courtesy laugh. They repeat it over and over through the first semester.

Liz continues to hang out with this group of hard partying girls and feels out of place on most nights. She doesn't get nearly as drunk as she did that fateful night, but continues to go to lacrosse parties. When she comes home for Christmas break her father had a surprise waiting in the driveway. The pinkish Ford Focus was all hers. She decided to get a vanity plate bearing her infamous nickname. She thought the girls would love it, and they did.

Liz turned into the designated driver when the girls needed more Vodka and Orange Gatorade. They always asked to borrow the car and Liz's annoyance with the situation grew everytime someone asked to use her services. Liz grew apart from the girls by the time Freshman year ended. They stopped asking for her car and stopped reminding her about lacrosse parties.

By Sophmore year they stopped exchanging hellos in the Dining Hall. Her reign as Lizaster was over, and it didn't bother her all that much. She became focused on studies and started dating a well-behaved Philosophy Major who wore scarves. She was content; however that damned vanity plate. She kept is as a reminder of that semester. It was both a warning sign and a welcome sign. She gets embarrassed when people ask about its derivative. When she tells the story she leaves out the part about showing off her midsection. She was bearing it like a cross that day I saw her making her way down Kelly Drive.

4 comments:

jbrizzity said...

Bravo!

PJS said...

Great work Kev

Murr said...

Some of your absolute finest...

elle_rigby said...

If it was her mother's car, do you think her mom would be a brassy blond that wears halter tops and smokes Newports?