Passed Out Patty

Though Margarita Mondays is always a hoot, some are more eventful than others. At a recent MM, we had a swell time, but the real adventure began when our crew hit the parking lot. Earlier in the evening, Patty*, a first time MMer, found herself so overcome by the powerful punch of these margaritas that she decided to excuse herself to take a nap in her car. Though Patty insisted she was fine, I thought I was being responsible by sneakily following her to the car and watching as she reclined the seat and went to sleep rather than drive away. Apparently, my foolproof plan had failed when I returned to wake Patty up and found her firmly passed out in the car; when I went to shake her awake; when I went to shake her awake, I found her car door locked. No problem, I thought, I'll just bang on the window. And bang I did, louder and louder, to no success.

I ran to my friends entering their respective cars to ask for some assistance. Together, we pounded on the car, screamed her name, and still accomplished nothing. Passed Out Patty was indeed passed out. After catching our breaths, we pounded and yelled again. And again. And again. Next, we tried a new strategy, shaking the car. It started with a couple of us, but soon all of us were shaking the car as vigorously as we could. Indeed, Patty swayed along with the vehicle's movement, even striking her head against the door a couple of times, which still failed to wake her. We attempted this action multiple times, leaving the car positively disgusting covered in hand prints. If it weren't for the fact that we could clearly see her breathing, we would have called an ambulance.

About an hour into our unsuccessful operation, MM's manager brought a flashlight which we shone straight at her eyes. It should have been painful, even to a person fast asleep, but she didn't even stir. Then we tried a multifaceted attack: shaking the car, banging, yelling, and shining the light in her face simultaneously, but still: no soap.

Concerned, Spencer went home to fetch a wire hanger in the hopes of using it to break into the vehicle. While we waited, I got antsy and scaled a dumpster so I could peek into the window of the kitchen. MM used to have some health code violations that we conveniently chose to ignore, figuring that the margaritas we drank had such a high alcohol content it would kill any germs. Still, I wanted to see what the kitchen looked like with my own eyes, and I'm pleased to report that I have no complaints. Now in a climbing mood, I proceeded to explore an abandoned school building, walking around inside then climbing a sketchy ladder on to the roof. Some might call it trespassing, but I call it a success. I may not have been able to break into a car, but a dank building was no problem.

It was a long time before Spencer returned, apparently he got caught up in a dance party. These things happen. We bent the hanger and jimmied it through the window; though we couldn't get it to unlock the door, we could use it to poke Patty. For about half an hour, we poked. We poked her arms, poked her boobs, scratched her forehead, shoved it up her nose, stuck it in her ear, fish-hooked her mouth and tugged at her lip, used it to dig into her neck so hard that it left marks, and still, nothing worked. At this point, we all grew immensely concerned. We didn't want to resort to calling Patty's parents, in fact, we tried for more than two hours trying to avoid that, but we exhausted all other options. We called Patty's friend to, in turn, call Patty's parents. They promptly left with another set of keys to free their child.

Wouldn't you know, just a few minutes after her parents were called, Patty started responding to our stimuli. Though still mostly asleep, Patty grabbed the hanger, bending it and rendering it useless. We still tried to prod, and she kept swatting it away, content to sleep. Nevertheless, this movement was a relief, confirming she could reach some state of consciousness. Within ten minutes, she finally consented to opening an eye and unlocking the door, a move met by wild cheers from the rest of us. Patty seemed embarrassed and confused, but was in good spirits, until we told her that her dad was on the way. This news caused Patty to freak out and she screamed repeatedly, "Do not call my Dad!" No matter how many times we told her it was too late, she just kept repeating her mantra until her dad finally arrived. Spotting him, Patty angrily screamed a now classic line: "I can't believe my dad's so drunk I came!" At that point, all of us who had been trying so hard to coax her into being calm but couldn't help but burst into laughter.

In the end, the good news is that Patty got a much-needed ride home, slept it off in a much safer environment, and forgot everything that happened. The even better news is that she is not mad and even promises to return to MM. Hooray!