Friday night our daughter called to invite us over to her boyfriend’s house to play Farkle and drink some margaritas with his parents, sister and a few friends. We all hung out and had a very good time as you can see from the pictures.
His sister had a friend over and as soon as I sat down next to her we became instant friends. She was so friendly and funny. I had no idea that she’d been drinking a little bit of this and little bit of that, probably long before she even arrived at the house. She needed to be home by a certain time so when it was decided that she wasn’t driving herself, my husband and Khristin (the boyfriend’s sister) decided they would drive her.
They were gone for almost an hour when Travis (the daughter’s boyfriend) said they’d just called to let us know they’d be back soon but that their trip had turned into somewhat of a nightmare. Rosie (the friend) had apparently gotten sick on the ride home and puked all inside of the car and they’d been cleaning it up. Luckily, there was someone at the house to clean Rosie up and get her all taken care of.
We all discussed how she seemed so normal at the house and that we had no idea she’d had so much to drink. Travis’ dad made a comment about how he hoped they’d gotten the car all cleaned up, and then I heard him say something about them leaving in the white car. About that time my ears perked right up and I confirmed that they had indeed driven off in the white car. Well, that white car would just so happen to be MY car. I immediately started asking myself why they had to take MY car when both Rosie and Khristin had cars there, too.
They arrived back shortly after the phone call and then filled us in on the grizzly details of Rosie hurling right there all inside of MY car before they could manage to get the car pulled over for her, and then operation puke clean up in which they used an entire roll of paper towels and a bottle of Kaboom trying to get it all up. Poor Rosie felt so bad and was crying and apologizing about the mess. Apparently she’d mixed wine, margaritas and who knows what else earlier in the evening and it all hit on her on the ride home.
When we left to go home that night I opened the passenger door and immediately saw that they’d missed a few spots so I rode in the backseat, where according to my daughter, they’d also missed a few spots. She informed me that Rosie had obviously eaten chili and macaroni for dinner. Ewwww! I told her not to say another word about what she saw on the floorboard and to just keep her feet up. We had the windows rolled down and it was all I could do to keep from adding to Rosie’s mess on the drive home. No amount of wind or fresh air could mask the odor. It was overwhelming. You all know the smell. It’s so distinctive, unmistakable and lingers forever. It’s got to be one of the worst odors there is, although I’ve never smelled a dead body. (YET!)
Saturday morning I woke my husband up and told him that I had errands to run and that he had two choices, go and have my car shampooed or drive me around in his company car since I’m not allowed to drive it. Even though my husband didn’t actually do the puking himself, I still blamed him. I couldn’t help it! I just kept asking him why he had to drive MY car to begin with. I’m really not mad at anyone and Rosie was just too sweet to hold this against her, but you wouldn’t believe how bad my car smells and how much I dread even having to get inside of it. He took it and spent forever at the car wash and shampooed it and when he first brought it home it actually smelled good. Then I took off to run those errands but after my first stop where the car had sat parked for about an hour, the stench had already set back in by the time I got back inside. I left the windows cracked all night and he drove it this morning to get donuts and admitted that unfortunately, he could still smell it. I’m so bummed. Maybe I should just sell it!
Thank God it’s not August, though. If it was still 100-degree weather around here I can only imagine how bad it would be. I’m sure by next spring when the smell has finally faded; this will just be a forgotten memory.