Let's say one of your best friends is visiting from Iowa, and you are showing her around, because not only has she never been to Durham, she's never even been to North Carolina. You are trying to make a good impression. Despite the fact that you are incredibly happy that your friend is visiting, you are maybe not in the happiest frame of mind overall, for various reasons. And then you stop at a gas station to get your friend a Diet Coke, because the girl is addicted to them, and you go on back out to the car, AND IT IS DEAD. AS A DOORNAIL. (You have not ever really understood that expression, but you just used it anyway.)
The car is dead. You cannot help but chuckle, because if you don't, you will probably start to cry. You call your brother, because he is all into cars, and maybe he can help you out. He doesn't answer. You call your dad, who says you should call someone who cares. He is kidding, sort of, and he tells you you should really get Triple A. You tell him you used to have it, but then you moved back close to your family, so you figured that he would be there to rescue you. He says it would be a really good idea to get Triple A but comes to rescue you. He jumps the car. It starts. You turn on the headlights. The car dies again. He jumps the car again, and says you better come back to the house, you can leave your car at the repair place and then borrow your mother's car to go get it fixed in the morning.
You go to your parents' house. Your parents leave. Your brother is there. You are planning to take your mother's car and go home. Instead, your brother and your friend pull out some vodka. "You need a shot," they say. Suddenly, you are drinking your (underage) brother's cheap nasty vodka. You are also making cookies, because you bake when you are upset. (For some reason the cookies turn out sort of flat, although of course they still taste good.) Your brother is doing beer bongs, and your friend is drinking a bottle of wine. She has agreed to be the designated driver, since you are clearly allowed to drink, what with your fragile state of mind and all. Clearly, she will not be driving, given that there is now no more wine. ("I'll write your parents a check!" she says. Suddenly, you and your friend and your brother are getting drunk off your parents' Bailey's Irish Cream. You think, "Oh my God, my life is so pathetic, and I have to sober up so I can drive home before my parents get back, because they cannot find me like this." Your brother says, "You need to finish the vodka. I know it is nasty, but, here, I will mix it with orange juice, then it will be fine." It is still nasty. You drink it. Your parents come home to find you in a semi-conscious state on the chair in front of the TV. "I take it that's not just orange juice in that cup," your mother says.
"Your mom is so cute," says your friend. She turns to your mom. "Can I be your daughter?"
At least you were the only one with the camera, so you are the only one with access to all the pictures that were taken -- and most of them are not of you.
