My birthday is quickly approaching. While trying to decide how to celebrate, I have been thinking about birthdays past. One party from a few years ago is reason to follow the tidbit for this installment of Momma Says Monday. Let's take a look back...
My friends and I were discussing what we should do for my 26th birthday; over beers, naturally. I threw a party bus out there (yes, I decided that my friends should get me a party bus for my birthday. Narcissistic much?) and we thought that sounded like a great idea. A little research and a few phone calls later and we were ready to roll.
During the pre-party, what would prove to be a fateful prophecy came from some of the avid Arrested Development fans, including myself, Sparky and my sister, Libby. While talking about the (dearly missed) TV show, the topic of "hop-ons" came up. We related the episode to our adventures to come that evening and warned everyone, in the words of Michael Bluth giving advice to George Michael on driving the stair car,
"Be sure to watch for hop-ons. You're going to have some hop-ons."
Fast forward several bars and many beers later; a bus full of couches (yes, couches) and fairly intoxicated twenty-somethings rolled into the last bar for the night - Miss Kitty's. Some of the group headed into the bar straight-away but several remained on the bus to finish additional beverages.
Then, a not-so-gentlemanly-and-verrrrry-drunk young man boarded our craft. Seeing this, Sister Libby recalled the "rule" we had established earlier in the night and quickly sprung into action. She attempted to inform our new guest that we were no longer accepting RSVPs for party and asked him to remove himself. However, I believe all that came out of her mouth was, "It's a hop-on! NO HOP-ONS!! NO HOP-ONS!!"
The next part is still a bit of a mystery to all witnessed/experienced it. And, none of us - especially me - are entirely credible sources. It seems that several of us jumped in behind Sister Libby as she berated the guy off the bus. She did not feel that he had quite gotten the message even after he had left and continued to communicate this to him after he had started to walk away. From what I remember, he did not appreciate this and he grabbed her and shoved her against a nearby (parked) vehicle. Did I mention that Libby is my younger sister?
Here's an equation for you... birthday girl + far too many drinks + hop-on man throwing sister against a car = x
X = an enraged, drunken big sister who immediately proceeds to rush to the rescue. That is, if rescue includes yelling profanities in the face of the d-bag who did this - only to be tossed to the ground by him. And by tossed, I mean grabbed by the shoulders and thrown to the concrete, head first.
Libby was shaken up but alright. The birthday girl, on the other hand, came to with my head in my friend's lap staring up at their stricken face. Oh, and with pain shooting through my head. I'll spare you the exact words I was babbling as I tried to determine if I was going to die in the bar parking lot. My friends assured me I was ok and got me back on the bus (during this time, our new *friend* had been tracked down by some of the gentleman accompanying us and received a stern talking to).
Then the ambulance showed up. And the police. I was questioned about the incident but between my partying and what-turned-out-to-be-a-concussion; I was completely incoherent. Nice. After checking me over, it was determined that the growing lump on my forehead warranted a trip to the hospital. Sparky and I were newly engaged at the time so as they strapped me onto the ambulance bed and started to pack me in, I was calling out, "What about my fiiiiiaaaanceeee! I can't leave without my fiiiiaaaanceeee!" Seriously.
The last thing I really recall about that night is hearing the EMTs call me in to the hospital as an "intoxicated white female with a head injury." To which my response was, "Ohhhh noooo. It's my biiiirrrthdaaayyy. I get to be int...intoxss...intoximicated," followed by tears of embarassment and sorrow about my "ruined" birthday (at least I still knew enough that this was embarassing - that's a good sign I suppose).
After a trip to the ER, I was sent home with a mild concussion. I sported a lovely bump and very black eye for a few weeks. Those eventually faded. But I'm pretty sure the limited memories and my feelings about hop-ons never will.
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