A couple of weekends ago I was out and about with my mom and some of my Dad's cousin's. We had a blast, we also had been shopping for about 13 hours. I was done. And that is putting it nicely. I had a long weekend thus far and I was looking to a wonderful evening at home. My mom and cousin's left around 11 p.m. and I watched part of a movie and by 1:30 a.m. I was pretty much ready to pass out, sleep until I couldn't sleep anymore and enjoy a very lazy Sunday. Something I hadn't had in a while.
Grey wasn't home yet. I had vaguely remembered at the time that she had a Bachelorette party that night. But, being me, I didn't remember who with or where the hell they were doing this at. I also assumed she wouldn't be coming home that night. Fine by me, I got a quiet apartment for a night. Little did I know my nice quiet little evening was going to be turned upside down.
I had just gotten into bed and was trying to fall asleep. I love and also hate that state of almost sleep. Where you're still awake enough to hear sounds around you but almost asleep. I was leaning more towards the being blissfully ignorant to the world for eight hours when my phone rings. Normally, I would let it go to voicemail. I'm in bed, whatever you have to say to me can wait until tomorrow. But, I also tend to glance at who it is. Well sure enough Grey's name pops up on the caller ID.
The first golden rule of living with someone, you answer the phone when your roommate calls. Especially mine. She almost never calls me. She's a texter. Which drives me crazy sometimes. But, it also helps in certain situations because when she calls I KNOW something is up.
So I answer. Expecting a drunken Grey who is going to tell me she is having a fabulous time or something that she deems is incredibly important in her drunken state. To my utter shock and surprise a man's voice greets me on the other end.
"Is this Bones? Grey's roommate? "
"Yes it is. Who's this?" (I'm rather nice to strange men calling on my roommates phone at almost 2 a.m. apparently)
"This is (forget his name), the Bachelorette's brother. Grey is really drunk I need to drop her off. What's your address?"
"Is it easier for me to come get her? Where are you guys?"
"We're off of 31st and Laramie." (For those of you who don't live in Chicago, that's not a very awesome neighborhood)
So I give the guy our address and he tell me he should be there in about 20 minutes. *Time Lapse to a half hour and me still waiting on my couch for this guy to show up with my drunken roommate. Also, this guy told me to bring a blanket down. I couldn't quiet understand him, and his explanation of why I needed a blanket, but I was going on faith that he would probably be correct in his assumption.
Thirty-five minutes later my phone rings and he tells me he's at the corner which is fairly close to our apartment. So I start the walk down our two flights of stairs and down the gangway to meet this guy. Mind you I look like hell. I have my glasses on (I don't look good in glasses), my hair is boarder line too greasy, and I have my donut pajama's on from Victoria's Secret. I look AWESOME. I see his truck, he has already seen me and gets out and comes around the truck to the passenger side.
I say hello to (Guy's name I can't remember) and I see Grey laying on her side of this pretty beat up pick-up truck with towels all over her. I open the door and realize the need for the blanket. It's November, it's quiet cold, maybe 40 degrees, and she has NO clothes on. No shoes, nothing, only a trench coat and towels covering her. My face has a look of horror and this extreme furry hasn't set in yet because I'm more worried about getting this girl into our apartment and getting her warm than anything else.
"What the hell happened to her? Where are her clothes? Is she really naked?"
He shrugs his shoulder's and says, "I don't know. Her clothes and shoes are here." He hands me a back of wet clothes and shoes that look like they've been pretty beat up.
I 'try' to wake Grey up, she opens her eyes, gives me the meanest look I've ever seen, rolls her eyes and says, "What are YOU doing here? Oh this is just great." (This statement may not prove it but my roommate actually likes me, honest)
I try to explain to her that it's time to get out of the car and go upstairs. She then looks at me like I'm trying to make her move the earth with just her pinkie finger. She VERY reluctantly gets out of the truck, after putting her shoes on the wrong feet and refusing to let me help her, and proceeds to start walking in the opposite direction of our house. I wrap her in the blanket and kindly tell her that we live in the other direction. She looks me dead in the eye and tells me, "I know where I live, okay?!"
"Clearly, you don't." Is my rebuttal.
So guy's name who I can't remember leaves and I get Grey down to the entrance of our building and into the door. Once I get her inside it's then that I notice that she's saying the phrase, "It hurts" over and over again. My ears start to perk up at this and I ask her what exactly hurts. Which she replies after a couple of times asking that it is her ass that hurts.
Clearly my panic mode has set in but it has been overtaken by my 'Mommy' side. I am not the detective on a mission to figure out what is wrong with my dear Grey and why the hell her ass hurts so much she is drunkenly crying about it. I figure my best bet at figuring this out is to get her into our apartment, which is located on the second floor and we have no elevator, and figure out what is going on.
I get her half way up the second set of stairs before she refuses to go on and tell me that it hurts too much. I have her in my hands, a bag of clothes, and the keys to the house. Something has to go or we will all fall down the stairs, and that would NOT be pretty at all. She is also leaning over the railing and I am terrified that she is going to fall over it and crack her skull open. In a very demanding voice I tell her to stay put, run up the other flight and half of stairs and open our door as fast as I can and throw her bag of clothes in our apartment. Drunken people have ridiculous wills for going for what they want. By the time I back down the stairs, which I swear was only twenty seconds she has made it back out into the gangway of our building and almost to the exit by our alley.
So the process beings again with me trying to get her into our building, up the stairs and in her bed. After a lot of coaxing and pretty much yelling at her, our neighbor's must have loved us, I get her in our apartment and in her bed. It is now 2:45 a.m. and sleep is no where in sight. She's still crying. Complaining that her ass hurts and now I start thinking the worst things in the world. I can't remember who's Bachelorette party it was and there is nothing in her text messages that are giving me clues. I'm screwed. I call her best friend, who doesn't answer, to see if she could help piece this whole thing together. Then I call my wonderful friend who works with homeless kids on the south side of Chicago. For the sake of this blog I'll call her Greta. I call Greta who is amazing in criss mode and sure enough she answers. Talks me through this whole mess and we come to the conclusion that she needs sleep and then we can figure it all out in the morning. She suggests I wait till she falls asleep and if she's breathing normal than I can go to sleep. I do just this and at about 3:15 a.m. I am confident that she will not die in her sleep and I go to sleep myself. I figure a good night's sleep will help me better deal with this in the morning.
