Sometimes Math and Physics Go Awry

My sister and I drove from our small town to the big city. We had plans, big plans, for a night of jazz music, seeing our friends from the big city, and eating well and drinking not as well. Diana was 20, and I was 22. By default, she was going to be driving us home--she did not have a fake ID.

We did happen to have a bunch of cash we had hoarded over the summer months to blow in spectacular fashion. There was a feeling between the two of us that everything having to do with this late afternoon, evening, and night would be gilt-edged and glinting with some magical promise of all things going our collective way. This feeling remained when we got in line for wrist-bands. We thought Diana could try to get a wrist-band and talk her way out of why she didn't have her ID (which was fake and non-existent).

As it turned out, Diana was completely unable to explain why she had no ID. I vouched for her and said I was her older sister, adding that we were Irish twins (a lie, of course). The Irish twins thing then turned into defining for the wrist-band seller what exactly Irish twins were. The lady just shook her head and said, "Two babies within twelve months. Goodness. Your parents aren't good at biology, are they?"

"You know," I told the lady, "our dad was a biology teacher at the time, and our mom was pretty hot. It's not a far leap they forgot all about biology."

"That poor woman," she said, still shaking her head.

"We have another sister, but she's a little over two years younger than Diana," I said pointing at my sister.

"Oh, my. Three girls. Your poor father."

"So, can my sister get a wrist-band?" I implored.

"Can't do it," the lady said. "I'm sorry." She looked at Diana and said, "Don't leave your ID at home next time. Okay?"

We walked away from the lady, and I told Diana, "Here's what we're going to do. After a while, you're going to take my ID and get back in line and get a different person. We look enough alike that I think when it gets a little darker, you're not going to have a problem getting a wrist-band."

"I don't care about all the drinking as much as you do. Besides, I have to drive us home. Wouldn't it be better if I were completely above scrutiny?" Diana asked.

"I know, but now it's about the challenge of getting the wrist-band," I said.

"Elena," Diana said. "Just stop. Do not obsess. Let's get some food, find our people, and listen to some great music."

"Fine," I acquiesced. "Let's get food and drink tickets and figure out what's next."

We moved on to another line with the food and drink tickets. We could buy a book of tickets, which had loads of food AND drink tickets--like, enough for a family of four. I swear they were smiling at us. We bought one of the food/beverage books. Right next to it, though, there was a book of tickets for just drinks. "What do you think?" I asked my sister. I could feel my eyeballs turning into pinwheels. Books of coupons and tickets. Incredibly seductive. Also seductive: Buckets of anything. We could take a bunch of the tickets and get a bucket of beer. We could get more than one bucket of beer.

Buckets and tickets. I thought Diana and I must have landed in a reality tailored to provide me (the older and supposedly wiser sibling) with my very weaknesses. However, therein lay the problem. I didn't think past the consumption of the tickets, buckets, and the contents of the buckets. "We need to find food," Diana said, interrupting my insane revery. It really was insane.

We found food. It was unexceptional. We found people. Not our people, but people who could be our people if we failed to find them. And then I thought someone recognized me from my fake TV show (one of the lies I often told strangers I met), but instead they wanted me to know my pants were unzipped. So much for mistaken celebrity.

The sun dipped below the horizon. In the big city people really couldn't see the horizon, but in our small town it was part of our day to day, and we took it for granted, not realizing how difficult it would be for people not to have been able to watch that very moment when the sun disappeared, leaving behind a glow that would still last a few hours. It may have been our grandma who told us, "Girls, if you're extremely quiet and you have your biggest listening ears on, you can actually hear a crackle when the sun sets every day. If you ever get a chance to see the sun meet the horizon on one of the Great Lakes, I'm sure you'll hear it."

My sisters and I have seen many sunsets, on land, small lakes, big lakes, Great Lakes, and ocean, and I have never heard the crackle. And I was very, very quiet.

The tickets called to me like a siren. I purchased one, and then a second bucket of beers. Diana had a single beer because she was nervous she would be discovered imbibing without a wrist-band.

The equation (because I like math): Diana (1 beer) + me (2 buckets of beer) - our friends (who would relieve me of a lot of beer if we found them) = a good time had by all.

Postulate one: The equation only worked if we found our friends.

Postulate two: Our friends would want to have some beer that was getting warmer the longer it remained unconsumed.

Postulate three: I had to let go of the notion that none of the beer could be wasted.

Our friends were late. The sun had gone down, and I would be damned if we left any beer behind--which decimated the equation. I had mostly made it through the first bucket, and there was no question anyone would want me to drive us anywhere. In fact, I think Diana didn't actually want to be around me. She steered clear of me like I might be carrying typhoid, which made me want to follow her around and harangue her about what was making her want to get away from me. God! I loved her. She was my sister! No one is every going to love you more than your sister. It's possible all those words may have been audible to everyone around us...like they weren't just something floating through my head.

And then, almost like the heavens parting, a miracle ensuing, I saw HIM, the cute law student I made out with after a weird party. What were the odds I could get with that guy again? As it turned out, in my then-current state, they were incredibly low. In my then-current state, statistics wouldn't figure into any part of my reasoning as evidenced by my botched equation previously. But I was undeterred, and Diana sat back and watched the disaster unfold.

I found one of my friends, who had come to the jazz festival with her parents. PARENTS! Why? I then sat on her dad's lap and started speaking loudly in French. Because the cute law student and I both spoke French. If I married that guy, we could speak French in the home. I could yell at him in French about taking out the trash and getting me more beer. However, my friend's dad was none too keen on having a 22-year old drunk, hot girl on his lap. He also didn't like the attention drawn by said drunk girl who was very loud and speaking what sounded like gibberish but was, in fact, very slurred French.

Diana approached my friend's dad and me, and taking my hands in hers, said, "Elena. Look at me. Look into my eyes right this minute." She led me away from my friend's dad's lap to the steps in front of one of the buildings surrounding the jazz festival. I glanced back at him to see him mouthing 'thank you' to my sister. My sister gently took my face and held it with both hands, and eventually, my gaze trained on her.

"Let's go home," she said. "I think we've hit the max on the fun. Don't you think so?"

I nodded. "Can we stop at Hardee's? I want a milkshake."

"Sure," she said.

I went in to Hardee's and placed the order. Lesson learned? You cannot drink a milkshake with a coffee stirrer.

In an attempt to be an amazing big sister, it occurred to me Diana might like an ice cream cone. Walking out of the restaurant, she was leaning her head out of the car. We had neither automatic windows nor air conditioning. "Di! I got you an ice cream cone!" I neglected the other parking spaces or parking blocks. I tripped and over one of those stupid yellow painted parking blocks, and the cone and the milkshake were no more. My pants were also ripped.

Diana jumped out of the car and led me to the front passenger seat. "Put that bottom lip away, Elena. I can't deal with a crying drunk. Go back to your happy place."

"Can you go through the drive-through and get some fries?" I asked.

"Sure," she said, taking the money I passed her.

A little while later, about twenty minutes or so from our small town, I told her we should stop at a gas station because I needed to use the facilities. She waited in the car. She was so patient, and since patience was a virtue, my sister was incredibly virtuous. I would buy her some stuff as souvenirs in the gas station convenience store. First things first, though. The bathroom.

Before I could even begin to unzip my pants, there was the heat and flare of something unhappy making its way up from my stomach with incredible force. Physics is supposed to be logical--there are laws in physics. But I will never understand how physics failed me on this particular night. The acid and my stomach contents were making their plans known. It was like the countdown of a space shuttle launch or something. Something big was going to happen.

I aimed for the toilet, however, the reality was that I broadcast the contents of my stomach with great enthusiasm and vigor everywhere in the stall but the toilet.

The sound of the door opening stirred me, and the only thing going through my brain was, "Jesus. God. Don't let it be the cops, the store manager, or our parents."

Instead, Diana's voice came through in a whisper. "Elena. Are you in there?"

My response was, "Nnnnggg. Uhh. Gahhh."

"Can you open the door?"

"Gggg. Mmmm...okay."

"Oh, my god. What have you done? It looks like. Oh, my god. We have to get out of here." She wet some paper towels and tried to wallpaper me with them. "We're leaving here. Do not talk. Do not make eye contact. Do not attempt to buy anything. Walk quickly and get in the car. Got it?"

"Mmmm...okay."

We went to the car. Diana peeled out of the parking lot. "We can never go back to that gas station again. They're probably going to post our photos there behind the register, you know like, 'Don't serve these people. They're a menace.'"

"Mmmm...yeah."

She drove for around five minutes. "Oh, my god you stink. You're going to make me sick." She pulled onto the shoulder. "Take off your pants. We can't have them in the car. They're disgusting. Did you puke on your shirt, too?"

"Mmmm...uhhh."

"Take them off. I'm going to put them in the trunk," she said.

"Towels," I croaked weakly.

"Right. You have towels in the trunk. Fine. I'll grab a couple and you can wear those the rest of the ride home."

Bright lights reared up behind us. It was some guy in a Malibu or some other kind of family sedan.

"Great. Just great," Diana muttered. A guy got out of the car. "Stay right here. Do not get out of the car." She had my pants and shirt. She was talking to the guy saying we just needed to pull over to do something or other I couldn't make out. She waited until he returned to the road and opened the trunk. And pulled out the towels. She threw my clothes into the ditch at the side of the road.

"Mmmmm...mah clothes..."

"They were never going to come clean. I kept picture the chunks that were going to be in the bottom of the washing machine, and I couldn't bear the thought of the degree of defilement of our home appliances. Sorry."

We reached home. It was late. Everyone was asleep. I wore a bra, panties, and a bath towel. The early morning cool roused me a little. I stood outside for awhile, and Diana said, "You okay? You look a little bit better."

"I guess," I said, reaching into the car to grab my bar purse and looking around for anything else I might have had.

"Did you lose something? Leave something behind?" Diana asked.

"My dignity," I said. "Just my dignity."