Wow, My Date Sucked!


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So We Go To This Fair In Canada...
by Kenneth L. (16, M, Seaforth, Ontario, Canada)

"I can't imagine having had a day worse than this one in my life, and it was a date to boot. A co-worker with whom I seemed to get along fairly well with agreed to go to the Western Fair (which is a fairly big to-do in London, Ontario, Canada during the summer) with me one fine Saturday afternoon. The day started innocently enough, as we drove the 75 minutes from my hometown to London, and we stopped at Masonville mall on the way there to do some window shopping and grab a bite to eat. When we got back to my car (a '78 Volare...I am sure some of you have heard of this make of car before...), it would not start no matter how many times I stuck my head under the hood (to at least make it look like I knew what I was doing...I didn't by the way). So, now we are stranded about 20 minutes away from our destination (Western Fair), and 75 minutes away from where home, with nobody to call (did I mention I was only about 16 1/2 years old and all my friends had yet to turn 16?, or that my parents were out of town, or that this was 20 years ago so there was no such thing as cell phones). We decided to try to make the best of it, so we called from the mall to get a cab t0 take us to the Fair.

The fair itself was pretty uneventful (except for the Double-Ferris-Wheel ride they have, which is hard to describe if you have never seen one, but the ride is supposed to last like 20-25 minutes as that is how long it takes to get everyone on and then off, but apparantly I was screaming like a little girl so loud that the guy let (kicked) us off after about 2 minutes).

So it is getting pretty late, and we still don't know what we are going to do (cab ride home? grab a hotel? hitchhike?), when we meet up with another one of our co-workers who lives near our hometown. Saved!!! Or were we? It ends up she drives a hatchback, and has two friends with her. So, the five of us pile in to this little shitbox, with me laying down in the hatch area. Which just happens to be right above where she has an exhaust leak. Said exhaust leak is filling my lungs, which ends up making me hurl right there in the car.

She pulls over in a hurry, but by then the reek has overcome everyone. I do my best to clean out the hatch, but the smell lingers. After everyone has gathered themselves, we all climb back in, with all the windows down, driving about 65 miles an hour (as fast as the shitbox can go with 5 passengers), with explicit instructions to me to tell them if I am going to spew so that we can all get out of the car in time. None of us end up vomiting again, and we make it home around 12:30am. The driver drops off my date first, and I am scrambling to get out of the hatch to walk her to the door, but her sprinting up the sidewalk to her house tells me I need not bother.

Good times."