How NOT To Live A Long Life

Location: Yuma, Arizona
Year: 1976

This story is only funny in that I survived to tell it. Kids, let this be a warning to you.

I had been out of high school a year when my friends that were a year behind me were going to have a huge bash celebrating THEIR graduation. It was going to be a monster party at the Crabtree's house. Mr. Crabtree had built a small empire in Yuma lining irrigation canals with cement. They had a rather large house and adjoining property east of town in a fairly remote, secluded area. Perfect place to have a monster party. It didn't hurt that he had two hot daughters. I would go.

The party lived up to the buildup. A ton of people were there and the keg was getting rapidly depleted. Mostly by me, it seemed. After a few hours of music, dance and laughter, I was W A S T E D. Hampered. Severely buzzed. Drunk out of my gourd.

And as events would have it, dangerously so.

At some point during the night, I became disenamoured with the party. I was pissed, actually. We'll let the details fade into the past. I remember sitting in my car (my '70 El Camino, which someday I would love to recover and be happy again) and being literally furious. I was so drunk I could barely walk and the two were a potentially dangerous mix.

Remember, this party was out in the sticks. Google Maps tells me 10 miles/16 minutes. I remember niether.

The NEXT thing I remember is waking up in my bed, feeling like 1000 camels had walked through my mouth and kicked my head in passing. It was midmorning the next day. I was in really bad shape. Possibly, the hangover of the century. My bedroom light was on and I remember thinking I must have been hammered if I forgot to turn it off. I crawled, slowly and carefully, out of bed to turn it off. I also noticed I had gone to bed fully clothed and neglected to even take my shoes off. Dork.

As I reached to turn the light off, I noticed the hall light was on, as well. So I stepped into the hall to turn that light off. Turning it off, I saw the kitchen lights were on. So I turned THEM off. And saw the living room lights were on. I was beginning to see a pattern here.

Walking into the living room to turn those lights off, I noticed the front door was open! Hanging wide open. My dog was probably long gone and I was now kicking myself in the ass for being so stupid. Was I THAT careless? The short answer was YES.

As I stepped out of the front door to look for my dog, I saw him curled up on the ground in front of my car. Yes, I had parked my car IN the front yard. Not only did I park in the front yard, I had left the headlights on. And the driver's door hanging wide open. AND THE CAR WAS STILL RUNNING. Sitting there in my front yard, lights on and door hanging open idling away. With my dog curled up on the ground in front of it.

Amazingly, and without incident, I had blacked out, drove ten-plus miles home through Gawd knows how many stoplights and stop signs and turns and OTHER CARS and suffered not even a scratch - me OR them, as I never heard any complaints.

So, I did what every hungover party dude would do - I shut the car off, closed and locked the door, collected my dog and went into the house shutting the front door and, turning off all the lights along the way, drank a gallon on water and went back to bed.

And that's the way it was, in Yuma, Arizona, in 1976. I'm lucky to be alive today. And I've quit drinking. Good Night.