Top Ten Worst Dates (#3)

    This will probably be my shortest entry, because really the date was so bad it just didn’t last long at all.

    Again, it took place on the dropzone (see #4 for terminology and explanations).  My instructor had asked me to come to his place for a small party.  Small party typically meant that mischief or some sort was sure to be alive and well, but curiousity always got the best of me.  I couldn’t wait to see what all was going to go down.  We had been out a few times before – so this wasn’t a “first date” kind of thing.

    I arrived to find him, another instructor and his girlfriend and a fellow jumper who I didn’t know well all sitting in this not so nice RV.  But, it had AC, food, drinks, and a couple of beds to sleep on, so I was good.  There were some brownies out for all to enjoy – and I loved brownies.  I had one and a glass of Coke and listened to the classic rock blaring from the huge speakers that were worth far more than the RV itself.  I was pretty sleepy, and I knew the other instructor well, and his girlfriend was a very sweet girl.  I knew I’d be safe to sleep here for the night.

    I felt so relaxed and chilled out…but really hungry.  Everyone was at the front of the RV, and most of the brownies were gone – so I grabbed one more.  Oh yes, I felt much better and even more relaxed.

    I couldn’t sleep, so I went to see what all was going on up front – there was a lot of noise, laughing, and just flat out stupid conversation that made no sense.  My first thought was drug use, but I didn’t smell anything. I had a job that did random drug tests, so I couldn’t be around that kind of think.  My “date” for the night and my friend were sitting on the futon while my girlfriend was sleeping (probably more pretending to sleep).  There is no way she could actually be asleep.  There was a canister that I could have sworn was a nitro bottle from a car, but surely I was just too dazed to really know for sure.  That’d be a strange place for it, sitting next to the futon.  Wow.  I was really feeling out of sorts, maybe I was getting a cold.

    My date had a large balloon, the kind that when I was a kid, typically had a rubber-band attached to hit so that you could slip your wrist in the and try to repeatedly punch it and it would return to you.  One of the BIG balloons.  He attached it to the NO2 bottle and filled the balloon with gas.  I had no idea what was going on.  He then took the balloon to his mouth and deeply inhaled the gas from the balloon.  He did this a few times before he fell over on his side and drooled like he was having a stroke.  His gaze was fixed and his pupils were dilated.  I just knew he was stroking out…but he was laughing and talking gibberish.  He looked like an old man having a stroke, and I didn’t find it amusing or funny.  I found it repulsive.

    A few minutes later, it was as if someone turned his normal switch back into the “on” position. He sat up, wiped the drool from his face and began to retell this vivid story of this crazy skydive he had during his imitation stroke.  There were some bandannas that hung from the ceiling (yes, nothing but the classiest decoration for these guys), and he told us how one of them was a spaceship or something equally stupid, I can’t recall exactly.

    So, another round of gas results in them twitching, drooling, pupils dilating, giggling, and talking like they honestly had a clot in their brain…oh, and let’s not forget the obnoxious hallucinations that result in them falling on the floor, and twitching and/or seizing.  I was horrified. I wanted to leave, but I was afraid if someone got hurt, no one was going to be there to help or call for an ambulance.  I was pretty far from amused on this “date.”

    But do you know what I WAS on that “date?”  HUNGRY.  Hungry and LAZY.  Where were those brownies?  Ah yes, one more.  It was late, nothing is open, and well, it’s all that they had lying around.

    I was content again, but felt like I’d had taken Nyquil.  I couldn’t figure it out – but hoped it’d pass.  About that time, my friend said, “How many of those are you gonna eat?”  Oh man, I’d been caught.  I laughed and explained that for some reason,the more I ate, the hungrier I got.  Both began laughing hysterically.  He finally explained, “those are magic brownies.”

    So, believe it or not, through all my crazy dates and life experiences, drugs weren’t one of my great experiences.  I have a relative who dabbled well in drugs, and as messed up as his life got, I knew it just isn’t something that interested me at all.  I had tried smoking herb (again, trying to edit for PG13 content), and honestly, I found it fun…but generally, I just didn’t do much of it at all.  I had mushroom tea and tried paper once- that was just scary and not fun at all.  Somehow being paranoid for hours on end and unable to sleep is just not entertaining to me – I’d rather bake cookies.  Again, I digress.

    After he drew me a map of what a “magic brownie” was, I wanted to be seriously mad, but I couldn’t quit laughing and didn’t care any more. I had to sleep.

    I woke up the next day in a dead panic.  I did NOT want this stuff in my body!  What if I got tested at work?  What if I lost my job?  I sweat bullets for a couple of months after that – but I never did get tested again at my job, so I was safe.  I never ate another thing at the dropzone unless I opened it from a package and never lost site of it from when it was opened to when I was done.

    I wonder why as a bank employee I needed to be sober, but as a skydive instructor, it was perfectly okay to be a dope-head and strap people to you all day long and throw them out of airplanes.  Like skydiving isn’t risky enough, we need to add drugs into the mix.  Needless to say, that was a pretty miserable date from the environment, to the food and drinks, to the entertainment.

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