In spite of being unemployed this year for my birthday (again), I made plans with my roommates and a couple friends to go on a weekend trip to celebrate. I originally wanted to go to Washington, D.C. for my birthday....but then I got fired. Next on the list was Charlotte, North Carolina, but I didn't want to pay a shitload of money for a hotel. Then one of my old friends hit me up on Facebook asking me to visit her in Daytona Beach for the gazillionth time. I usually kind of blow her off when it comes to visiting, but she offers to let us crash at her place which translates to "Bingo!" in my head.
Just a couple days before it's time to get on the road, things begin to unravel. One of my friends (I'll call her K) sends a text telling me she can't get off work for the weekend. She's one of my flakier friends so I really wasn't counting on her in the first place, but then I get a text from my other friend (who will be referred to as B) saying to "call her" about something "important." Neither of us are the calling-type of people; we usually only communicate through text, so I know something is up. I call her, but no response. Later that day I get a call from my friend in Daytona Beach. She says that her boyfriend will be going back to their hometown the weekend of my birthday and she found some cheap flights online, so she is thinking about going with him. Okay......
She asks if this will be a problem. My first thought is, "Hell yeah it's a problem bitch! You call me two days before my trip and say I can't come now." But I tell her it's cool; if she wants to go home and visit her fam I can't tell her not to. I will just find something else to do. Then she asks me about four more times if I'm sure that it's okay. I'm getting annoyed now because I hate it when people do flaky shit then try to get reassurance from me that it's okay so they won't feel guilty. I tell her it's fine, then get off the phone with her. Minutes later she sends a text saying that she is still trying to decide if she's going to go home or not. What?! I don't have time for this bullshit! I text back, telling her to let me know for sure by the next day. By now I'm already on to the next one and I decide to look up hotel rooms in Charlotte. I find a few that will actually be pretty cheap if we split it four ways. Which reminds me....I still haven't heard from B. I text her and ask if she is still coming or if she will have to work this weekend as well. She texts back saying that she got "caught up." I respond asking what the hell that means. She says she will call me when she gets off work. In the meantime, my friend from Daytona calls and says that she has decided to stay home for the weekend so we can still come down if we want. Not to be mean, but I'm kind of over her at this point and I pretend that I'm excited about hanging out, even though I've already decided to go with Plan B.
I wait for a call from B, while contemplating whether I will answer the phone or not, since I'm pissed now. Nothing against my roommates, but we ALWAYS go on road trips together, so I was looking forward to the breath of fresh air I would get by having some new people come along, and now these chicks are fucking around. Like I said, K is super flaky and I had originally not even invited her on the trip because I knew she would be on some bullshit. But somebody slipped up and mentioned the trip to her and she got all hurt, asking why I didn't invite her so I caved in and told her she could come along. However, I gave B about three weeks notice that I would be going out of town, so I don't know WHAT her deal is. I text my roommate and tell him there's been a change of plans and....ugh. I need a drink. I break out my trusty red plastic cup and mix Minute Maid Cherry Limeade with vodka (delicious) then take a shower.
When I get out, my phone starts ringing. It's K. I don't know why she's calling since she said she won't be coming on this trip, but I grudgingly answer. She sounds chipper as hell, which annoys me even more, and she asks if I got her text message. I tell her yes, I got her text message saying she wasn't coming. She says she sent another text and I look through my phone. I see a text from her and B saying, "April Fools Bitch! Of course we're coming, we love you!" Damn. They got my ass. I can't help but laugh, but I let it be known that they will be getting cursed out the next time I see them.
By now, I have my heart set on going to Charlotte. It's a shorter drive, there seems to be more to do there, the hotel should be super cheap since we're splitting it five ways, and I don't know if my friend in Daytona Beach parties as hard as me and my friends. She seems more like the type that likes to watch movies and bake cookies; that's cool, but not really what I had in mind for this weekend. I book the hotel and make plans to break the news to her tomorrow.
The next day I send my friend a Facebook message telling her that one of my friends has an early class on Monday, and I don't want to drive almost 8 hours on Saturday just to turn back around and leave on Sunday (which is true). She writes back saying she understands and that we will just have to plan it better next time, blah, blah, blah. I'm done with that part of my life so I spend the rest of the day procrastinating and trying to make myself pack. I had made plans to go out with B and K tonight but now they're talking about going to a foam party and I'm not feeling it. For some reason I think of germs and all types of nasty things that people are capable of doing when I think of foam parties. Besides, I'm not in the mood to throw on a bikini at the beginning of April. I tell them to make sure they wake their asses up early and meet me at my house the next morning so we can get on the road.
Then my roommate texts and says that they will be getting off work early tonight (Good Friday) and that we should start my birthday celebration early. Sounds like a plan. I shower, get dressed, and make myself a drink while I wait. By the time my roommates make it home, I'm done with cup #1 and pouring myself a second one. In the hour that it takes for everyone to decide where we're going to go, I finish another cup-and-a-half. I don't start feeling it until we get in the car.
We get to the same lame-ass gay bar that my roommates always force me to go to, but I really don't remember too much of what happens. Someone buys me a shot, I go to the bathroom, and someone thinks I'm a man....that's about it. I'm not sure how long we stay there, but eventually we leave the bar and head to the local diner. In my drunkenness, I fumble around for my debit card, which should be in my bag that I left in the car. My roommate says not to worry about it; he'll get my food and I can find it later. We go inside and eat; I end up passing out at the table. Then we go home; by now it's around 5am and I had planned to leave for Charlotte around 8. Somehow I still believe that I will be able to get up in two hours and set my alarm for 7.
I wake up at 10am to the sound of my ringtone. Apparently I slept through my alarm and about a dozen missed calls and texts from my friends, who are sitting outside in the car. I get up and let them in, then start putting my stuff together. But I still can't find my damn debit card. I look through my jeans, my roommate's car, everything, but I can't find it. I know I didn't take it with me to the club because my roommate bought drinks. Then I start looking for other things that were in my bag and I can't find them either. My D&G glasses are missing, as well as my gate key to get into the subdivision, my Social Security card (which I always keep in my wallet even though everyone says you're not supposed to), and $15 in cash. My roommate says his Yves Saint Laurent glass case is missing too, and we come to the conclusion that someone broke into the car and took our (mostly my) shit. I guess they didn't even really "break into" the car; the lock on the right side has been broken for some time and has to be manually locked. So someone probably forgot to lock it and a shady ass thief hit the jackpot.
I can't believe this. I quickly call Wachovia and report my card as stolen. She says I won't be able to get a new one until Monday or Tuesday at the earliest, and there will be a $16 fee. Great. I agree to it, and reluctantly pack the rest of my shit so we can get the hell out of here. We're already running way behind the schedule I had planned in my head, but I decide to stop by the bank so I can withdraw funds before we go. Silly me; I forgot this is Easter weekend! The bank's closed. I slowly shake my head in disbelief at how my birthday is getting started. Everyone says not to worry; they "got me" and I can pay them back later for whatever expenses I accumulate in Charlotte.
We fill up the gas tank then I get on 85. The weather is beautiful, I have my music up, and my foot is heavy on the gas. I'm making good time, only about an hour or so until we get to Charlotte. Then I spot a patrol car on the side of the road. I ease off the gas, but it's too late. He puts his lights on and starts following me. Shit. I pull over and he walks up to the passenger's side. He gives his spiel, telling me his name and what county police department he's with, as if I give a fuck. He tells me he pulled me over because I was doing 87 in a 60 mph zone. He asks where I am headed in such a hurry. I ignore him; my friends answer him instead. They say they don't want me to get arrested. I tell them I don't give a fuck if he arrests me. I don't know if he hears me, but whatever. It takes me a good five minutes to find my driver's license and registration; I hand it to him and he goes back to his patrol car. He comes back shortly after and says that I am now required to pay a $355 fine or show up in court next month. He asks if I have any questions; I ignore him again and he says to "drive safe out there." Fuck you. I get back on the highway and take the first exit so that I can turn around and go back home. I have had it with this bullshit.
I feel like I am going to drive off the road and kill us all; I'm so angry. I stop at a gas station and call my mom to tell her what has happened. She is the only person I want to talk to when I'm in an extra shitty mood; I break down crying as I talk to her, telling her my day is ruined and that I already have so many bills that I can't pay due to my unemployment and now I have more money to pay. She does her best to console me, saying that I should go to Charlotte and have fun in spite of everything, then asks to speak to one of my roommates. After he gets off the phone with her, he offers to drive the rest of the way and we stop to get something to eat.
We get there around 5 and check into the hotel. Everyone lays out in the bed like they're ready to call it a night and shit. I go to the bathroom and realize that my friend is here. No wonder my stomach has been cramping all day. Could this day get any better? In spite of being exhausted, we decide to take a walk around downtown Charlotte to see what it has to offer. It's very pretty; that is, until we get several blocks down and the homeless begin to make up most of the pedestrians on the streets. We take that as our cue to turn around and head back to the hotel. Once we get back, we want to buy liquor for when we go out tonight. Apparently there are no liquor stores within walking distance of the hotel. I figure that's a ploy so that out-of-towners are forced to blow hundreds on drinks at the nightclubs. I can't afford that shit right now, so my roommates and I make a trip outside the downtown area while B and K get ready for dinner before we go party.
For some reason, my GPS tries to send me to an out-of-the-way liquor store that is surely in a shady neighborhood that we have no business being in, but I spot a place on the way and stop there instead. It's not too scary I guess. I get my vodka; my roommate buys a bottle of gin, and we drive back to the hotel. We get ready, then go across the street to dine at a swanky Italian restaurant. Afterward we go back to the hotel room and pre-game; I'm feeling so gross and bloated that I now have no desire to drink. I sip on my cranberry and vodka out of the hotel's paper cup while B gets "wasted." I can always tell when she's getting tipsy because her voice gets more and more high-pitched the more she drinks. Everyone seems fascinated by some MSNBC prison documentary that follows inmates who do crazy shit like tattoo their eyeballs, but I announce that I'm ready to go out. I'll be damned if I had all my shit stolen and got a speeding ticket just to get here and watch TV in a hotel room. There are clubs near the hotel in a little plaza. We head up the escalator and this is when I wonder if any of the clubs are 18+ or 21+. All of us are of age, except B, who won't turn 21 until October. I go up to a bouncer and ask if the club upstairs is 21+ and he says they all are. Shit. Then K gets the "bright" idea to give one of her IDs to B and have her go ahead of us to see if she gets in. We're supposed to wait 5-10 minutes so the bouncers can "forget" what K's ID looks like, then go in after B. This sounds like a stupid plan to me, especially considering that K and B look nothing alike, and with the luck I've been having lately, I don't want to get arrested tonight on some dumb shit.
However, B walks upstairs to the club and doesn't appear to have any trouble getting in. We wait a few minutes, then go up to the bouncer. He checks our IDs and then tells my roommates they can't go in because they don't fit the "dress code." Apparently guys in Charlotte are required to wear three-piece suits and wing-tipped shoes in order to be granted admission into a club. My roommates and I debate for a few minutes about what to do; they say they will just go back to the hotel and I can stay with my friends. I'm pissed because I wanted all of us to go out. I don't know if this club will be charging a cover fee when we go up there; I don't know anything. After all the events that have occurred today, I decide that I am officially done with this trip and I stomp my way back to the hotel room in my 5-inch heels. Some old man tries to holler at me on the way, but I give him the "look" that makes it obvious I am not to be fucked with at this moment. My roommates come into the room moments later and sarcastically say that I'm a great friend for leaving K and B behind. One of my roommates says it was my fault for inviting B because she's not 21, and tells me I'm acting like a spoiled brat. I tell him I don't give a fuck and not to talk to me about it anymore. I change clothes, go downstairs to get my makeup bag out of the car, cry some more, then come back to the room and go to sleep.
The next morning, I don't talk to anyone. We walk around to find something to eat, but once we get to a restaurant, I make it known that I'm not eating anything. Again, my roommate says I'm acting like a child and he doesn't know why I'm mad at them. I can't really explain what it is that I'm mad about; technically none of them did anything in particular to piss me off. I'm just angry in general and they just so happen to be the closest people to me at the moment so they get to experience the full force of my wrath. He says that even though shitty things happened to me, I should just make the best of it. I don't want to hear it. I fold my arms and stare in the opposite direction. After the meal, I call my mom again and tell her what happened the night before. She agrees that I was acting like a spoiled brat and says that I should be happy I have friends that wanted to spend time with me on my birthday, and repeats that mantra of "making the best of a bad situation." I start crying like a baby again and tell her that I just want to come home. I'm done with life, I'm done with Atlanta, I'm done with being broke, I'm done with not being able to find a job, I'm done with everything. She says that's fine with her. I'm relieved. We get in the car and I drive back to Atlanta, watching my speed the whole time. Damn those cops.
I don't even have words for my birthday weekend. Everyone tells me I should write a book. I agree. I think it should be tentatively titled "I Wake Up Every Morning Shaking My Head."