Dreads, Hangovers and Heart Attacks

From: ac@email.com
To: thegirls@email.com
Subject: Three things

At a low point in my life, Saturday night I gave my number to a 24-year-old guy named Joel who has dreadlocks and I’m pretty sure deals drugs. He’s a friend of our young friends who are also 24. As you can guess, I was hammertime (there was an MJ dance-off at one point in the night). And I’m pretty sure I told him as he was typing in my number that I was way older than him. The kicker is that James told me when he was hanging with him earlier in the day, Joel said something to the effect of, “He used to get a lot of ass in Dallas because he was the only one with dreads.” And then he proceeded to light a bowl.

Cut to the next morning when I want to die of a hangover, and I see that I have a message from this dude from 3:07 am. “This is Joel, call me if you get this.” Ummm, no. After listening to the message, I proceeded to make James drive me to IHOP in my own car and then tried not to puke in my coffee cup. We’re mid-pancakes and an old man falls down and hits his head right beside us, and James says, “I think a man just had a heart attack.” 911 is called and the group hovering over the man ensues in the booth next to us. After about 10 minutes, everyone in the restaurant assumes he’s OK and turns back to consuming their Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruities as if nothing happened. Such a bizarre experience.