This story could start with our viewing of the Human Centipede yesterday, but the sake of short attention spans and the fact that it was neither very scary or funny, we will just skip to the good stuff.
It all started around 12:30 am last night. Brutal Juice was putting on another amazing show @ Lola’s in Fort Worth and I had reached my 3 beer limit. We were all having a good time, I wasn’t driving, and there were no early appointments on my calendar. So, I figured one more beer wont hurt. Right? Well, I reached the bar at the same time as a friend of mine who proceeded to say, “Let’s do a shot!” Hmmm, you know, I haven’t seen this band in years and everyone is having such a good time…sure one shot. She turns to the bartender and orders, “Two Jager bombs with Lone Star backs.” Christ. Jager and Redbull at this hour? Ah what the hell. Now for those you not from Texas, what we call shots are more like doubles or triples for you. Not to mention the fact that the bartender obviously liked her. So, the concoction that was handed to me took 4 large gulps to swallow. UGH. *Cheers* *Tap the bar* *Guzzle and Swig* The Lone Star helped but water was next for sure.
The band played on and we jumped around until 1:30+ in the morning. Poor Lorena had to get up early, so we hit the road as fast as possible and hauled ass back to Dallas. She made the 40 minute drive in just under 30 
Door to door delivery right before 2 am and it seemed to be the end of a very good night. I jumped out of her car, said my goodbyes and proceeded into the house to find some food to counteract the liquor in my stomach.
Phone. Where’s my phone? Kitchen? No. Bathroom? No. Living room? Shit. I even checked my truck, which I didn’t even drive, but I had thrown my box of earplugs in there before I came upstairs. Damn it. My phone is nowhere to be found. So, I decided to call it to see if I could hear it ring. “Hello?” said a familiar voice. “Lorena? shit I guess I left my phone in your car. Are you home?” “No, I actually got in a wreck” “Are you OK!?!” “Yeah, I just twisted the shit out of my ankle and we are stuck here for a while” As it turns out, she was still not very far so I got directions and decided to drive over there. Yes, I was probably over the limit, but not by much. Plus it was less than a mile. When I arrived it wasn’t what I was expecting at all. There was a pretty massive wreck down on the freeway. Shit, now I’m really concerned and I’ve got to figure out how to get down there.
At first I thought, “I should drive down to the wreck on the freeway.” But then a little voice in my head said, “Alcohol+Police=DUI.” So, I parked and proceeded to walk/run down to the scene. You know, I take this freeway entrance all the time, but doing it on foot was WAY longer than I thought it was. Even at dead run it seemed to take me 10 minutes. Once I actually got down to the freeway, the cops spotted me and started yelling and shining their flashlights at me. I think they were trying to get me to turn around but I kept going and ran straight toward them. (Note to self: Police do not like you walking on the freeway, and they REALLY don’t like you running toward them in the first place) Yeah stupid move on my part. They were very agitated when I reached them and if I hadn’t explained that I was there because me friend had gotten into a wreck they prolly would have incarcerated me.
It took a few minutes to explain my situation, but soon the cops disposition changed to from anger to concern and they started making calls trying to figure out if Lorena was alright. One officer even drove his cruiser down to the wreck to check it out for me. As it turns out, this was not her wreck and they determined that it was another wreck back on the access road. “Get in” Ummm “Get in the car, I will drive you to the wreck.” OK, suddenly my drunk ass was sitting in the back of police car headed for the location of the second wreck. We drove around for a bit, found nothing and pulled over next to another cruiser so the two officers could try and figure out what happened to the cars. Then the questions started. “What’s her name again? What kind of car was she driving? Do you know her number? Etc” I proceeded to explain that she had my phone and give him the number. Of course I can’t hear her side of the conversation, but I can only imagine what she is thinking. “Hello mam, this is Officer ********, I have Allen in my vehicle and he is trying to find you.” As it turns out, not long after I left my house, they had cleared up the wreck and Lorena had driven back to my house and was waiting outside.
I told the officer, “Hey don’t worry, I will just walk home.” Really I just wanted to get my vehicle and drive home, but I wasn’t sure how drunk or sober I appeared. “Nah, no need to walk, I will give you a lift.” Strange experience to say the least. If you’ve ever been in a cop car you know that the back seat is not designed for comfort. It’s more like a hard plastic bench that if you aren’t restrained is very slippery. Each turn had me sliding left and right. Also, the plexiglass between the back to the front had no holes in it, but sound seemed to pass through very easily. At no point did I have trouble hearing him, nor him me. At the time is seemed strange, but I felt it best to remain quiet than to ask stupid questions. Other than the lack of comfort, the ride was actually pleasant with the officer telling me a story about running off a crack head earlier that evening.
When we arrived at the house, poor Lorena’s eyes were as wide as saucers. My guess is that she thought I was probably arrested. Heck I’m sure it looked that way. But the officer opened the door and my drunk smiling ass hopped right out. After a little explanation from both parties the officer proceeded to inspect the outside of her car. Surprisingly for being in a wreck everything seemed fine, or at least what little damage I could see appeared minimal. I said thank you to the officer and we went into the house to wait for him to leave so that she could give me a ride back to my truck. Funny thing is that we had just missed each other. She had found my truck right after I left it to walk down to the freeway. If I’d only waited a few minutes, none of this would have happened.
