This story starts out fairly innocently. Brandon, Tommy, Billy and I are all attending the "Southern 500." Bob Corbett is there as well and will be involved in the story shortly. Suffice to say, between the four of us we run out of beer fairly quickly. Bob Corbett man's up and tries to go get more for us, given that literally all of us are underage - man move. Unfortunately in the puritanical laws in South Carolina, you're disavowed from purchasing alcohol on Sundays. This is a setback. Temporarily...
Bob Corbett busts out some bourbon whiskey. "Can you guys handle some shots?" He asks. We all assured him we could - and we could, just the volume, in retrospect - happened to be slightly excessive.
We enter the racetrack and find our seats. I see the sun setting just as the cars come around the first turn. It was one of those beautiful sights you don't forget. Ironic, given the next series of events. Brandon, Tommy and I all went to the bathroom and that's the last thing I remember. Tommy told me that afterward he'd found me laughing hysterically pushing rental wheelchairs down a stairwell. Hilarious and slightly disturbing. I, on the other hand, don't remember reacquainting with my seat after our communal bathroom break. The sun is setting on this portion of the story, unfortunately (for me), both literally and figuratively.
I'm awoken by the sound of a car. I'm in a ditch on the side of a road, seriously. I'm utterly disoriented. What the fuck? I have nothing on my person but my wallet. Let me clarify that by nothing mean I am devoid of even shoes. I look around, barefooted and try and to figure out where I am. Nothing. The race track wasn't in sight, I am literally in the middle of fucking nowhere with nothing in sight.
"Okay Chase," I think. It's time to start trying. I hop a few barbed wire fences into businesses that clearly looked closed - and they all are. There were several houses, clearly abandoned, with massive boxes on the front porches. Bastions of potential homeless people.. my thought process was "oh they'll definitely know where a phone might be, and I have bare feet so they'll think I'm one of them."
I continue walking along the side of this abandoned road, until I get to the highway exit.
"Yes," I think. I'm on I-77, exit 23. the place where I drunkenly always convince myself I am, but have never been. I have called friends' mothers and told them I was there before, only to have them search and wait for me to no avail. Idiotic
However, it seemed I had some good luck on my side. At this odd truckstop looking place there was this guy, kind enough to offer me a ride.
"Where do you want to go?" he inquired. "Anywhere with a phone," I state.
So we're traveling down this road that's totally barren, no street lights, nothing. Then "it" happens. This guy randomly grabs my crotch area. I immediately grab his hand and stop him, somewhat twisting his arm (but he is driving, I'm somewhat restricted here).
"What are you doing, this isn't going to work... I'm not that guy."
He literally ignores me and tries it again. This time I grab him forcefully to magnify the point that I am faster/stronger and whatever weird effort he's trying, won't work. He's honestly disturbed at this point by my resistance.
It's at this point he starts propositioning me. He claimed he would seriously "suck me off for a ride back to Charlotte." He was serious. And I for half a second considered it, but no.
We finally arrived at Walmart. I was so glad to get out of this assholes car I behaved somewhat asshole-like myself at the aforementioned mega-store.
I approached the "customer service" desk and pleaded with them to use their phone. This was their response to a shoeless, desperate guy.
"If you buy a phonecard you can use the phones over there."
The phones "over there" were these shitty pay phones. However when you have no options, one looks better than none. I called Billy Corbett with the phone card I'd bought and fortunately he and Bob Corbett were on the way.
Luckily being barefooted in Walmart in South Carolina doesn't acquire much attention. So took this time to open and consume a bag of Chex Bold Party Mix, in the back of the store.
Finally, my ride home had arrived. Everyone was laughing about my journey except Bob Corbett, who was utterly convinced I was raped. But in the end the ride home was tranquil except for the slight interruption which was my story and perhaps a...
...Reality Check.
Bob Corbett busts out some bourbon whiskey. "Can you guys handle some shots?" He asks. We all assured him we could - and we could, just the volume, in retrospect - happened to be slightly excessive.
We enter the racetrack and find our seats. I see the sun setting just as the cars come around the first turn. It was one of those beautiful sights you don't forget. Ironic, given the next series of events. Brandon, Tommy and I all went to the bathroom and that's the last thing I remember. Tommy told me that afterward he'd found me laughing hysterically pushing rental wheelchairs down a stairwell. Hilarious and slightly disturbing. I, on the other hand, don't remember reacquainting with my seat after our communal bathroom break. The sun is setting on this portion of the story, unfortunately (for me), both literally and figuratively.
I'm awoken by the sound of a car. I'm in a ditch on the side of a road, seriously. I'm utterly disoriented. What the fuck? I have nothing on my person but my wallet. Let me clarify that by nothing mean I am devoid of even shoes. I look around, barefooted and try and to figure out where I am. Nothing. The race track wasn't in sight, I am literally in the middle of fucking nowhere with nothing in sight.
"Okay Chase," I think. It's time to start trying. I hop a few barbed wire fences into businesses that clearly looked closed - and they all are. There were several houses, clearly abandoned, with massive boxes on the front porches. Bastions of potential homeless people.. my thought process was "oh they'll definitely know where a phone might be, and I have bare feet so they'll think I'm one of them."
I continue walking along the side of this abandoned road, until I get to the highway exit.
"Yes," I think. I'm on I-77, exit 23. the place where I drunkenly always convince myself I am, but have never been. I have called friends' mothers and told them I was there before, only to have them search and wait for me to no avail. Idiotic
However, it seemed I had some good luck on my side. At this odd truckstop looking place there was this guy, kind enough to offer me a ride.
"Where do you want to go?" he inquired. "Anywhere with a phone," I state.
So we're traveling down this road that's totally barren, no street lights, nothing. Then "it" happens. This guy randomly grabs my crotch area. I immediately grab his hand and stop him, somewhat twisting his arm (but he is driving, I'm somewhat restricted here).
"What are you doing, this isn't going to work... I'm not that guy."
He literally ignores me and tries it again. This time I grab him forcefully to magnify the point that I am faster/stronger and whatever weird effort he's trying, won't work. He's honestly disturbed at this point by my resistance.
It's at this point he starts propositioning me. He claimed he would seriously "suck me off for a ride back to Charlotte." He was serious. And I for half a second considered it, but no.
We finally arrived at Walmart. I was so glad to get out of this assholes car I behaved somewhat asshole-like myself at the aforementioned mega-store.
I approached the "customer service" desk and pleaded with them to use their phone. This was their response to a shoeless, desperate guy.
"If you buy a phonecard you can use the phones over there."
The phones "over there" were these shitty pay phones. However when you have no options, one looks better than none. I called Billy Corbett with the phone card I'd bought and fortunately he and Bob Corbett were on the way.
Luckily being barefooted in Walmart in South Carolina doesn't acquire much attention. So took this time to open and consume a bag of Chex Bold Party Mix, in the back of the store.
Finally, my ride home had arrived. Everyone was laughing about my journey except Bob Corbett, who was utterly convinced I was raped. But in the end the ride home was tranquil except for the slight interruption which was my story and perhaps a...
...Reality Check.
