Driven Mad: A last-minute job ferrying some drunks to the Tampa Hard Rock
July 6th, 2009 by Tom Fairchild in News, Sarasota-Manatee
“Chauffeur” is a French word meaning “no social life.”
On Saturday night I was all set to attend a chi-chi party when The Boss called with a last minute limo job. Drat. Into the monkey suit again, and into the night I go.
I am always wary of these rush jobs that turn up out of the blue. Most folks who rent limousines plan it well in advance, because of a special occasion, or simply because a night out can cost a decent amount. Quick-response gigs often come about after a few hours of drinking at home, when someone, probably out of boredom suggests, “Hey you guys, let’s rent a limo!” Like almost anything you hear after five gallons of Captain and Coke, it sounds like a tremendous idea.
Till the credit card statement arrives.
Saturday night’s folks weren’t quite in that state of mind, but were on their way. A clue is when the plans that The Boss told you about — they want to go for a quiet dinner and a few drinks locally — turns into “Take us to the Hard Rock, Tom, we wanna go find us some fun, man!”
Notwithstanding, they were all very nice people, happy not to smoke in the car, communicative and smiling. The fun began three hours after I had dropped them at the casino. One of the women called me and said, “Tom, get here ASAP.” Rolling into the forecourt, the problem was obvious. My people were surrounded by nine security people, seven men and two women.
But it wasn’t what you’d imagine. The person being escorted out of the hotel (shouting, quite loudly) into the limo was indeed one of the women in my party, but it was her friends who had requested the heavies. Apparently she had started in on her boyfriend, and when he proved unresponsive, began sitting down with other people in the restaurant, at their dining tables, looking for sympathy.
When she didn’t see her friends’ point about it perhaps being time to leave, they figured to preempt strangers complaining, and sought professional help for one of their own.
And you should have heard the howling on the way home. “You motherfuckers don’t respect me! How could you do this to me? You douchebags are all assholes! And YOU [to the boyfriend] can’t even get it up!”
Leave a Reply