In college I did my fair share of partying. Most people who meet me now would probably laugh about that. Shoot, half the people that knew me then would laugh as well. I'm socially awkward but get a drink in me and wheeeeee!
My partner in crime was my BFF, Rachel, whom I'd met when we both worked at a shoe store in town while we were attending junior college (community college, whatever you want to call it!). Rachel and I got along famously once we got to know each other. I'm hard to get to know, so I have to respect and appreciate anyone who takes the time and puts in the effort to really know ME.
To this day, she knows things about me only one other person does (my husband).
Rachel and I hit the bars for entertainment in college. One weekend we were visiting Rochester and decided to go to the big dance club in the city. We were big into dancing in college, though it was mostly country two-stepping and 16-stepping and the like that we did. For a change of pace, we went to a different type of club.
This bar was known as the "meat-market" and probably for good reason. Rachel and I had no plans to find men however. We went to places like this just to shake it and have a good time. In fact, we were so NOT into finding guys we usually dressed in baggy jeans and flannel shirts. It's possible our indifference was attractive. We almost always had guys buying us drinks whenever we went out.
This night we happened to run into a guy that I'd met when we worked together. I never particularly liked him but I thought he was attractive in an odd sort of way. I tried to set aside my distaste for him to see if I could get to know him better and discover a pleasant person beneath the exterior.
He and his friends bought us a drink or two and by the end of the night offered us a ride home. I no longer remember why we didn't have a ride that night. It's possible we were with a third "friend" who was often jealous of the attention Rachel and I received (She'd have the last laugh now if she saw me) left without us out of anger when she was out driver. Whatever it was, we took the ride offered by J and his friend.
Rachel and I climbed into the back seat while the boys rode in the front seats. It went well until the boys decided to go to McDonald's on the way to taking us to Rachel's apartment. Things went south quickly when, instead of holding the door for me, one of the boys slammed the door on my foot as I was trying to step out.
The guy who tried to chop my foot off was not remorseful of apologetic at all. I was young enough that I could be pissed off on principal. I refused to get back in the car.
I pretty much made my BFF walk home several miles because my pride was hurt. This is how I know my BFF is my BFF. She sticks by me even when I'm a jerk.
I'm guessing our walk home took at least an hour if not more. But we did it together and she stuck by me even in my irrational moments. That's why I love her still.