One of the reasons that my senior year in college was so great was because I had turned 21 over the summer and could finally go to bars ... legally. And the place to be during the Fall of 1973 was "Fridays Child" on Tuesday night. Why? Because it was Ladies Night! My buddy John and I would blow off all studying that night and head for the bar.
So many great things happened there. I met a girl one night who sang to me in the parking lot, and we ended up dating for a while. A month or so later, this same girl dumped beer over my head because she must have been pissed at me. I lost points with my buddies for the singing in the parking lot thing, but gained them all back and more when I got beer poured on me. One night my cousin who had just ended an affair with my uncle showed up and tried to hit on me. That was kind of creepy, but awesome anyway. But the absolute strangest, best night I had was when I had to get the woman who was older than me with a kid and a jealous boyfriend, out of the bar restroom and take her home.
It was Tuesday night, and my buddies and I met up at the bar. As usual, we sat together at first, and then moved to different tables as we met girls. I was a slow mover that night and ended up sitting by myself, but a woman came over and sat down with me and we started talking. She seemed nice, but she drank an awful lot. As the hours went by she became increasingly plowed and started to reveal things that should have raised 400 red flags in my mind, but they didn't. She was 5 years older than me, had been married and divorced, had a 4 year old kid, and just wanted to have "fun".
By now, it was getting near closing time and I was looking for an "out". But before I could think of anything, her girlfriends came over and announced that they were leaving. She told them that was okay, because I was taking her home.
Uh oh ...
After they left, she told me that she was going to the restroom and then we could leave. Then she lurched toward the ladies room. Right there and then, I should have bolted ... but I didn't. I guess my "chivalry" response kicked in, or some shit like that. The bar was closing and she still hadn't come back from the restroom, so I did the only logical thing. I went in after her. And there she was, sitting on the floor with her chin pressed against her chest, semi-passed out.
I managed to haul her out to my car and dumped her in the front seat, then I rolled down all the windows and took off. Fortunately, the cold air revived her somewhat and she was able to tell me where she lived. She also told me that she hoped her boyfriend wouldn't be mad at her.
Scared shitless at the prospect of having her jealous boyfriend beat the living hell out of me, I got her to her apartment, managed to get her door open and deposited her on the nearest chair. Rotating my head like an owl the whole time, I got back to my car and sped home.
Now, at this point, I need to mention that I lived at home during college. You can all titter if you want, but I graduated owing exactly ZERO in student loans, so sit on it.
Anyway, the next day I went to class and when I got home that afternoon, my Mom asked me where I had been the night before. When I asked why, she said that a woman had called saying that she had woken up naked on her kitchen floor that morning and did she know anyone named Rob.
My mom can be pretty scatter-brained at times, but in that one instance, she had the presence of mind to say "No".
I never found out how the woman got herself naked on the floor in her kitchen, but I really never wanted to find out anyway. I stayed away from Fridays Child for about a month, but when I returned, it had fallen out of favor, as all bars of that type eventually do.
Mom never did ask me what happened that night. And that was just fine with both of us ...