Drunk at the School Carnival: How Being Accosted in a Bathroom by a Drunken Carnie Basically Sums Up My Life at this Point
Like my uncanny ability to always choose the worst chocolate from the box, or the most expensive item in any array of objects, my ability to attract the crazies is just a defining part of me. And not in the Jack Keroac sense either. Luckily, I appreciate the color (and often the smell) they add to my life.
On Saturday night I reunited with some grade school chums at our annual school carnival, which I can pretty much guarantee is the bougiest, most impressive school carnival you’ll ever see, thanks to a high concentration of Showbiz parents and a healthy amount of show-off tendencies. Anyway, now that we’re old enough to descend upon the margarita and beer booths for something other than asking our parents for ride ticket money, we decided to spend our Saturday night getting drunk, jamming to a live performance of 90’s hits by Sugar Ray, and stalking our old classmates and teachers. Because obviously.
But that’s not the point. That’s just gravy. The point is that as I was waiting in line for the bathroom, perfectly composed and minding my own business, I thought of a funny incident — and by incident, I mean the fact that at one point our school janitor used to mop the bathroom floors with toilet water — and smiled to myself. This was my first mistake, and I should know better than to take off my bitchface around strangers, cause it never ends well, but whatever.
The middle-aged, tore-up-looking bleached blonde woman, who was clearly inebriated and almost definitely a carnie, turned around from the mirror where she had been vaguely examining/admiring herself witnessed this. So she turned around and kindly (I think) said (slurred), “you ok?”.
To which I smiled (I’m a friendly drunk), and said yes.
To which she helpfully replied, “’cause you look pretty drunk. And not ok. Kgnjnv.”
“Nope, I’m golden. Pinky promise”.
Then she smiled (if a smile could slur, this would be it) and walked (shambled) out, probably to operate heavy machinery filled with children.
I shrugged and said, half to myself and half to the 15 year old girl and her friend standing next to me, “she’s not wrong”.
To which she said “what? Did you say that’s your mom?” (Um, offensive, in retrospect)
“No, I said she’s not wrong”
“. . . So you are drunk?”
I was only mildly buzzed, but I just smiled and winked at her.
But she didn’t care and gave her friend a look, cause they’re 15 and too cool and I’m old and weird and drunk at a school carnival.