I understand that it will be hard to believe what I am about to say after Noah Part 2, however it is true: I break up really well. You will undoubtedly hear other stories of this in the future, but today comes the ending to the story of Noah. Yes, he cheated on me, yes I went crazy and broke into his phone, and yes, we are still friends. Perhaps it is because we work together, perhaps it is because I went above the call of duty to commit B and E in order to save his dog when he was MIA…whatever the reason, things worked out.
Noah and I broke up on a Tuesday and a week and a half later we were supposed to go to the mountains for a weekend of fun and a BBQ challenge–the first of the two vacations we had booked while drunk and convinced we’d last forever! I tried to re-rent the condo but did not have luck, so Heather and Robby said, “Screw it, we will split it three ways and all go together!” Best decision ever! By the time we got there after spending two hours in traffic, listening to Taylor Swift for way too long, we were ready for the weekend.
We checked into our condo and then immediately went down to Main Street to check out the BBQ fest, but got distracted by lots of alcohol. At one point I remember sitting together at a patio at a bar, and I was smoking a bowl (because in my mind that seemed ok). The waitress walked out and said, “Are you guys smoking weed?” Despite the fact that we were the only people on the patio, I respond with, “What! That’s crazy!” and pointed to a table inside the restaurant, even though it was very obvious that it wasn’t them–boy I thought I was sly.
The next morning we wake up and I am ready for round two or the party, however Heather and Robby decide they need some time to recover. I decided they have an hour and go to make some incognito drinks and sneak them in water bottles while I talk everyone into hitting the BBQ again, mainly because Robby was so excited to watch the Pig Races. Obviously.
Flash forward couple weeks later, after many happy hours with those two, and us being dubbed the Three Musketeers at work, and Heather and I were grabbing drinks when Noah calls me.
He said that he was unable to go to Telluride (our second vacation) and he genuinely wanted to be my friend and for me to have the condo stay and the tickets to the music festival where Pearl Jam was the headliner. It could have really just been him being nice because he could not re-rent the condo, or if could have been that he had just booked a trip to Hawaii with his new girlfriend and felt guilty, but whatever the reason, we didn’t care.
Heather and I made plans to leave the Mile High City at 6AM, however I did not end up getting to her house for our pre-vacation sleepover until about 3AM. Oops. By 8AM we were out the door, coffee in hand, headed down the highway. The ride there was beautiful and we were so excited. So excited that we had to stop and pee like every hour, which we decided was either due to excitement or due to us slowly aging!
After a 6 ½ hour drive we pull into town and find ourselves at a bar prior to even checking into the condo. We are sweaty and exhausted wearing yoga pants and no makeup. We order some pizza, salad, and of course drinks–I mean it’s already like mid-afternoon and we haven’t had anything to drink, so we had some catching up to do. By the time the salad comes the bar is full of people and conveniently a group of guys has appeared to my left. One guy leans over and asks if we got the spinach salad and my sassy side comes out as I say, “Keep your eyes off my salad, boss!” Later he gets his own salad, one with fried goat cheese balls on it, and asks me if I want one of his balls, to which I respond, “You want me to put your balls in my mouth? Is that appropriate in the middle of the bar?” I then yank the ball off the plate and give it to Heather, and offer some of my spinach to my new friend. He takes a bite and says, “I am getting strong already! Wanna see?” I say, “Way to go Popeye!” He smirks and says, “Why don’t you call me Brock.”
The drinks keep coming and the laughter thickens as we start to make new best friends for the weekend. After exchanging a few made up memes with the tagline, “They’re Fucked” via text, we part ways. Heather and I go check in and shower, then continue getting ready for Eddie Vedder by way of a bowl and some drinks.
Later on, we are in the crowd jamming out and a couple walks by and accidentally spills Heather’s drink. We were already peeved about people running into us and with her attitude from Ohio (yes, Ohio people have quite the attitude!) Heather gave them a look as if they just murdered her son. The boyfriend tries to hand Heather money as the girlfriend profusely apologizes. I encourage her to take the $8 from the guy and they go on their way. Heather rolls her eyes until she realizes the $8 is really $18, so she’s gets us more drinks. Somewhere between Better Man and Black I get a text from Brock that just says, “Let’s Fuck.” I reply with, “Is that supposed to say ‘They’re Fucked’ or do you actually want to fuck?”
Who asks that? Who asks that when they are as un-sober as we were? Me. I ask that. After many inappropriate and flirtatious texts, I pass out–because I am a good friend and decide inviting him to the couch of a one bedroom condo would be unfair to Heather. I did not want that Ohio attitude on me!
As Heather I wake up the next morning, she’s squinting at the bright sun and says she wants to get brunch. I respond and say, “Agreed! A Bloody Mary sounds great!” Apparently drinking was the last thing on her mind, but I was ready! After breakfast I talk her into another bar–where she says she will take it easy, but before long is going drink for drink with me. I made plans for us to go meet Brock and his gang at their condo. Prior to leaving the bar I send a text, like the lady I am, that says, “Let’s just fuck all weekend, then go our separate ways at the end of it, deal?”
We get to their condo and as his friends make drinks I ask Brock to “Give me a tour of the condo.” We made it to the master bathroom counter and that was that. A while later we go back up to the others and the meme “They’re Fucked” was turned into “They Fucked” and then I pop a combination of weed candy, percocets, and caffeine pills before we head to the bar.
This is when things go blurry. Based on the stories from Heather and some photos I saw the next day on my phone, I believe the following happened: Brock and I play darts and lose, I puke in the bathroom and tell the guys we need to go take a nap (because Heather tells me that I have to go take a nap) and then as we walk back to the condo, I hop on the Hot Mess Express and puke my way there. The picture Heather showed me the next day was the icing on the cake. It was me, passed out on the couch, wearing a fedora on, covered in a fur blanket in the July heat. I have no idea what time it was when that happened, but I had intentions to go see Cage The Elephant, only to wake up close to 11 at night after the festival had ended. I immediately yelled to Heather, “I am going out! Are you going with me?!”
An exhausted Heather tells me she is not, but asks me to bring food when I get back. I meet Brock at the bar and am convinced the drink he got me was pure vodka (probably from a plastic jug).
We go back to his condo and as soon as we walk in, I run to the bathroom and throw up everywhere. I clean up the vodka soda, hide the towel, and meet him back downstairs like an adult. He asked if I was ok, I laugh it off, and we spend the rest of the night naked and rolling around in the sheets until 5AM when he has to fly back home. He gets up to shower as I find come to and begin searching for my clothes. Once I have my things I knock on the door to the shower–not to the bathroom but to the shower–and as he opens it I say, “Well nice to meet you, travel safe!”
He stares at me and says, “That’s it?” Like a man, I say, “Yep!” I momentarily consider giving him a high five but decide against it, and stumble back to my condo for a short nap before we leave to meet my aunt and uncle for lunch.
After a weekend of drinking and drugs and all-night sexcapades, the last thing I wanted was a 6 ½ hour car ride. Lucky for me, in true best friend fashion, Heather drove the entire way as I complained of being sore while smelling of alcohol and sex.
I am not sure what made the weekend so awesome. Maybe it was the memories and laughter with my best friend, maybe it was the regret-free sex, or maybe it was the combination of the first two and the fact that it was done while on the dime of my ex boyfriend who cheated on me. Regardless, it was amazing, and as my favorite t-shirt of the weekend said: “It doesn’t get Eddie Vedder then this!”