2.12.17
7:42am
Aimee: Still drunk. Wakes up. On a couch, wearing yesterday’s makeup and someone else’s pants. Reaches for her phone, it’s nowhere in sight. Realizes that it is gone. Panic.
Me: Still drunk. In a benadryl coma. Passed out in my friend Lacy’s guest bedroom.
7:51am
Aimee: Stumbles into the guest bedroom. Finds me sleeping next to my boyfriend. Picks up my phone to call her phone. Confirms her phone is lost.
Me: Trying to ignore Aimee and keep sleeping. Pretends not to hear that she lost her phone. *Opens eyes* She’s still there.
7:53am
Aimee: *Uses Find My iPhone* Turns out her phone is south of I30 in Fort Worth. Where most we definitely DID NOT go the previous night. She figures she must have left it in an Uber…that she doesn't even remember being in.
Me: Bitch really.
7:58am
Aimee: Still drunk. Rounds up the squad. Squad being Lacy, me and my boyfriend Brooks. Which could more accurately be described as 3 drunk idiots without pants. Lacy being the only one who remembers anything fills us in on the deets. Turns out that the Uber we were in was at least a 15 year old car, with 3 different coats of red paint, had shag carpet, and smelled like B.O.
Me: Still drunk. Aimee comes back in the room and tells me we’re leaving to go get her phone. *Dies a little* Grabbed a mini Gatorade, and headed to the car. Brooks is drunk and hungover at the same time, but we had to bring him for protection. Maybe he could barf on the guy if he tried to attack us.
8:07am
Aimee: *Driving to Uber guy’s house* Has us go through our phones looking for clues, which was a fun trip through my Snapchat. Lacy discovers that our friend Adrian, who we were hanging out with the night before, texted her at 3:00am to tell her he had Aimee’s phone. Apparently, he called to make sure we got home safe and our Uber driver answered and said “The white bitch left her phone and it’s going to cost you $20”.. So Adrian went and picked up her phone in the middle of the night.
(Adrian is one of our old Fort Worth friends. He is a short man with long dreads. Think of him as Peter Pan, because he will never grow up. He has an international business degree but has never had a “real job” because it would get in the way of his booming social life. He is Mr. Fort Worth, and that is not a compliment. Adrian knows anyone and everyone, is out every single night, and was actively trying to convince Aimee to have a child with him….. hard pass.)
Me: Still drunk. Trying to co-pilot this shitwagon.
8:15am
Aimee: Get’s close to the place that her phone is at. There is not one singular house or apartment complex in sight, only hospitals and businesses. The four of us start to discuss the possibility of Adrian being in the hospital. Lacy starts calling him over and over, with no answer.
Me: *Instant regret* Know’s Adrian doesn’t live in this area, and hard contemplates my life choices.
While Lacy blows his phone up, I have Aimee’s phone make a loud noise through Find My iPhone.
8:20am
Aimee: We made it. The place looks like a lovely Catholic Church. There are 2 cars in the parking lot. One is a black Mercedes, which is Adrian’s car, and the other is a large brown Ford truck that is parked in a fire lane, naturally. Confused, we look in the windows of both cars and don’t see Aimee’s phone.
Me: *Youtube's how to break into a car*
8:25am
Aimee: Adrian, definitely still drunk, emerges from a small cottage, which had a sign that read “Clergy House”. He’s holding Aimee’s phone. *Praise hands emoji* Brooks is puking while simultaneously giving a thumbs up.
Me: The fuck?
8:26am
Aimee: “Adrian, are you a member of the clergy now? Why didn’t you tell us.”..
Adrian: “Nah, this is actually a funeral home. My buddy’s parents own it and sometimes we crash here.”
Me: The actual fuck?!
8:27am
We all get back in Aimee’s car and look at each other with the same “WHAT THE SHIT” look on our faces. A funeral home. Ok. Sure. You do you Adrian. Still drunk, we head back to Lacy’s house, all wondering “why is this my life”. Once we get back, Aimee, Brooks and I head home. Still not able to get over the fact that one of our good friend’s was sleeping in the same place that they keep dead bodies.
*Get home. Take NyQuil. Pass out.*...Sunday
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