Afterwards, the group was heading to a local establishment to grab some grub, but I had to pass... I had a date! :-) Or, as I kept reminding myself, a "first meeting".

Thinking of it this way helped to keep me from being even more nervous than I already was. This apprehensive feeling I was having was new to me, or maybe it just felt that way because it was so old. Old, because if I had ever felt that way before, it would have been years ago on a first date in high school. I felt as if I was holding onto my (normally reliable) self-confidence by a greasy rope. For some strange reason, I was being reminded of what it felt like to be... *shy*!

Normally, when meeting someone for the first time, I never trouble myself with what the may, or may not, be thinking about me. If we got along, great. If not, no big deal, I can't lose something that I never had. But this time, for whatever reason, it was different.

My "date" for the evening was a friend of a friend, a friend who just happens to think of herself as an amateur match-maker. And even though this would be the first time that I would actually meet her, we _had_ talked to each other beforehand. First, through some very nice emails. And then, over the phone. Suffice it say that what I learned through these exchanges led me to send a note to our mutual friend the day before that said, "... if she's even _slightly_ cute, I'm in big, big trouble. :-)"

Fortunately, when I met her, I saw that she wasn't slightly cute... She was *incredibly* cute! :-) We spent the afternoon together at a corner of St. Louis that had just begun its Mardi Gras celebration. After that, we went to see "Evita", and then I took her home. Once inside, we sat across from each other and talked... and talked.. and talked. It was great! :-) However, by the time 3:30am rolled around, my contacts were beginning to feel like wool mittens on my eyes. I hated having to end our conversation, but as foggy as my mind was becoming, I was afraid that I wasn't making much sense anyway.

So, I said goodnight, and began my drive home. My *hour* long drive home. "No problem", I thought to myself, "I'll just grab a DP on the way, and everything will be cool."

A half an hour into the drive, and I was already to the point of screaming and shaking the steering wheel in an attempt to get the adrenalin flowing to wake me up. Which actually worked... for awhile.

Eventually I made it to the rock-n-tar country road that served as a shortcut between two local highways. "Almost home," I thought. Which is the last thought I recall having until I felt someone moving my bed.

Except it wasn't my bed I felt moving. It was the left side of my car dropping into the shallow ditch on the side of the road. When I opened my eyes, what I saw was a cable juncture box illuminated by my headlights. So, (as some presence of mind was beginning muddle its way clear), I cut the wheel to the right. I felt the rear of the car sliding out from behind me as it climbed back onto the road. I now found myself sliding sideways. And I began to think to myself, "how long can a car do this before it starts to roll.." Luckily, I didn't have to find out. I began to realize that unless I pointed the car in another direction soon, I would find myself shooting out into the field I was facing, so I cut the wheel back the other way, which straightened out the car, 180 degrees opposite the direction I was originally traveling. In other words, I was doing about 45 miles an hour, backwards. The change in direction killed the engine, and I hit the brakes hoping that I could keep it on the road, but instead, I shot backwards into the opposite ditch and came to an abrupt stop, about 18 inches from a telephone pole. [whew]

I restarted the car, and made a futile attempt at rocking the car out of the ditch. But, my left front tire was suspended in a foot of water, so all I got for my efforts was a really neat looking fountain coming out of the wheel well.

So, there I sat, in the middle of the country, and about three miles from the nearest phone at 4:30 in the morning. I crawled over to the passenger side door and managed to get out of the car and took in the situation. I thought about jogging the six miles I had left to get home. But decided that at this time in the morning, you never knew *who* might be behind the wheel of a car. So, I decided to do what my body had obviously been intending to do anyway. I got back into the car, reclined the seat, and prepared myself for a couple hour doze until the sun came up.

Over the next several minutes, several cars passed by me. One, however, stopped after passing me and backed up to the car. Two guys got out, and I could see a female in the back seat. The male passenger was in a *very* happy, and gracious mood. And the driver offered to give me ride to wherever I was heading.

"What the hell," I thought. And I took them up on their offer. I locked up my car, and climbed into the back seat of theirs. The first words out of the young lady that had stayed in the car to me were, "I'm *so* f_____d up!" And she proceeded to inform the two guys in the front seat, in a very loud voice, just how f'd up she was. Then she got quite and leaned her head back on the seat.

The two guys and I start into a conversation, and I notice, thankfully, that the driver seems to be maintaining a fairly straight line. I consider this to be good thing. :-) At some point, we were discussing my options at the car and mentioned walking in the cold night air. Suddenly, the girl bolts up and begins to announce that she is not going to go f'ing outside, its f'ing cold out there, and they would be out of the f'ing minds if they think that she's going out in that sh_t. Then she got quite and leaned her head back on the seat.

A few minutes later, the guys and I had moved onto a different topic, and we were almost to my place. And for the third time, the girl sits up and sends out a flurry of f's and sh's, but I'm not able to make out what soapbox she's on this time. Finally, the guy in the passenger seat turns around and says in a slow, deliberate voice, "Shut - the - f___ - up." Then she got quite and leaned her head back on the seat. Which is where she stayed.

I got dropped off at home without incident. I went to my bedroom, kicked off my shoes and collapsed into bed.

I got up at about 9:00. I told my Dad that I would need his help and his four wheel drive pickup to go get my car out of a ditch, sparing as many details as possible.

As we approach where I left my car, I begin to get an uneasy feeling. The car was not there.

Okay, maybe a cop had it towed for some reason. Why? I didn't know. So, we head into the little town I had passed the night before (true, I don't _remember_ passing this little town, but I knew it was there). We check out the local tow truck lot. No car.

As we head back, I ask Dad to stop where the car had gone into the ditch. As I look around, I see a large amount of broken window glass in the grass. I also find a plastic piece of molding that was part of my headlight housing.

Things aren't looking too good at this point.

We head back home, and then I call the county sheriff's department. Yep, sure enough, an officer had called for tow truck to pull out my car. One of the questions that the officer asked me was, "What condition was your car in when you left it?" This didn't bode well. Next, I call the tow company who has my car.

He had gotten called at 6:30 that morning by the police officer. Only two hours after I had left it. What he found when he got there was every window of my car busted out. Also the headlights and one set of taillights. "And by the way," he said, "they left you a souvenir." "Really? What was that?", I ask. "The rock they used was sitting on the hood of your car," he said. Lovely.

I went up to look at the car. And sure enough, every window was smashed through. And it wasn't just "a" rock. There were several, and one of them would have classified as a small boulder! This must have been the one on the hood, because the hood was smashed down pretty hard. Plus, it looked like I had blown a tire during my little sliding maneuver. Of course, glass was everywhere on the inside of the car.

Randy, the tow truck driver, began to tell me about when he was pulling out the car. "We're in the middle of this country road, I've got my lights on, the officer has his lights flashing. You can see in either direction for at least a mile. The officer asks me if I think we should be looking in the fields for the you. But I said, 'By the looks of his license plates [RUN FVR], he probably jogged home.' And then we notice this red Cavalier flying down the road toward us. It didn't look to me like it was going to slow down, much less stop. But just before it got to where we were standing, they hit their brakes and end up right next to us. Let me tell ya, I was steaming. I ran over to that car ready to clock whoever was behind the wheel. Then the window rolled down and this woman looks up at me and asks, 'Can I get by?' 'Yeah!', I yell, "just as soon as I slap the sh_t out of you!!' And then the officer comes running up, and he's yelling at her, and asks for her license. "Did I do something wrong?', she asks him. 'You see that middle pedal on the floor there', he says to her, 'that's the brake. Use it next time!'"

I forgot to ask Randy if the officer actually ticketed the woman.

So, what could possibly be the lesson I should learn from all this?...

I've come up with two so far: 1) Never drive tired, leave earlier, or rest on the way, and 2) Never leave an attractive woman at 3:30 in the morning.