Surreal World Palm Springs (Part 2)

In our last episode, G-man was marooned in a bar parking lot with an intoxicated woman, Phoebe, who was hitting on him (an obvious sign of inebriation), and looking for another female friend, Rachel, who disappeared before closing time. Rachel was Phoebe's ride home, and G-man was obviously not thinking clearly or he would have given Phoebe a ride and then offered to take her home himself. We pick up our story in the parking lot of a nightclub in the toney hot spot of Rancho Mirage.

Before long, the security guys have succeeded in virtually clearing out the parking lot. And still no Rachel. So I approach one of these security guys and tell him we are missing a member of our party. He is uninterested and unconcerned.

After another 10 minutes or so, the parking lot is deserted. Even the security guys are gone, and Phoebe is rambling on about some cosmic karma or something. I'm having a difficult time paying attention because I'm freaking out that Rachel is still missing.

I convince Phoebe to stay at the truck while I go back into the bar to check around. Once inside I find one of the workers who was in the midst of cleanup and tell him what's up.

"Hi, I'm looking for a friend of mine," I said. "I haven't seen her in a while. She left our table to go to the bathroom well before closing time and we haven't seen her since."

Thankfully, this guy, offers to help. So we go traipsing into the women's restroom (which still felt odd even though the bar had been closed for quite a while. He asks what my friend's name is. I tell him.

"Rachel?" he says. "Are you in here?"

A muffled "yea" is heard in reply.

Thank God.

We approach the small bathroom's one stall.

"Rachel, I'm going to open the door OK?" the bar worker says.

Another muffled reply is heard, but I can't make out the words.

The stall door is locked. And this is no ordinary bathroom stall door. This is a real wooden door.

The bar worker points to the bottom of the door. I look down and see long, flowing blonde hair spilling out from under the door frame.

Oh shit, she's on the floor. He head is on the floor. I try not to think of the hygiene issues that might cause, or what else we might find once the door opens.

The bar worker goes to get something to try to open the door. He returns with a chair and a broom. While standing on the chair he slides the broom down into a gap at the top of the door and reaches down to lift the door handle.

Once we get the door open, we see Rachel sprawled out face down on the women's restroom floor. Relief and dismay wash over me. Mystery solved. But now what do I do with my passed out friend?

By this time other bar workers are on scene to check out what's happening. Four or five other people join us in the bathroom or poke their head in the door. One of them helps me get Rachel to her feet. I find her eyeglasses sitting on the floor next to where her head had been, and pick those up. Someone has brought a bottle of water, but Rachel doesn't want any, so I hold onto it. Once Rachel is standing, getting her walking is a bit of a trick. She seems to be fidgeting with something. So I look down to see Rachel working to zip up and fasten her pants. Ordinarily I'll be looking for signs of panty or bush or whatever, but right now, escorting a drunk woman who was passed out on a bar bathroom floor seems to keep my libido firmly in check.

The pants get buttoned and we start making progress, but the high heals of the shoes Rachel is wearing are making it hard for her to balance, so she kicks them off. Someone grabs her shoes and hands them to me as well. Somewhere in all this, Rachel also hands me the keys to her truck, maybe after I explained I was there to drive her home, I'm not sure. It was like watching a movie played at the wrong speed. I caught bits and pieces, enough to follow the plot, but I was missing parts of the action. So now I'm holding eyeglasses, a bottle of water and two black shoes, and a set of car keys in one hand, and I have a fucked up blonde in the other arm. Another man on the other side of her helps me guide/carry her toward the door.

We no sooner get out the bathroom door, and Rachel starts to convulse, like she's about to heave. Now it's my shoes I'm worried about. One guy in our little impromptu rescue party grabs a chair and we get Rachel to sit down. And another guy tells me that I can pull the car up to the side entrance. He says he'll show me. I think they just wanted that fucked up woman out of there before they were left with a mess to mop up or something.

So, after getting assurances that someone would stay with her until I returned, I follow my guide.

Once out the door I break out in a run for the truck. OK, I jogged, but I definitely wasn't wasting any time. As I approach the truck I can't see Phoebe.

Fuck! Lost another one!

So I run faster. When I get around to the driver's side of the truck I find Phoebe, bent over, head down below her knees. I tell myself "great, now she's puking too." But she wasn't. She was merely on the verge of breakdown thinking she'd been totally abandoned. So I get her vertical again and tell her to get in the truck, sounding a little too much like my dad when I was a kid. I'm surprised I didn't say, "Get in the Goddamned car or I'm going to leave you here!"

So I get Phoebe in the truck. And the mystery of where Rachel's cell phone has been was immediately solved when I see her purse on the floorboard and hear something beeping inside it. No matter. I've found her, now I just need to go get here. So we start driving toward the side entrance to the bar that emptied out into the drive way. I tell Phoebe to stay put, taking the keys of course, and head back inside.

When I get inside, Rachel is still sitting on the chair, but she is now leaned way over with her face at rim level with a garbage can. When I tell her I have her truck right out side, she slurs "lessgo."

So, with the help of one of the workers, we start navigating Rachel toward the door. Just as we get close enough to smell the outside air, in bounds Phoebe through the door, marching right past us. She rambles something I didn't understand and says something else about a credit card.

Shit.

Well, first things first. Let's get Rachel too the car, then track down Phoebe.

As soon as we hit the fresh air, and Rachel's erratic footfalls hit the asphalt, she starts shivering and complaining about the cold. Well, I figure a little fresh air might do her drunk ass some good. Maybe she should ride in the bed of the truck. But, no, we take her around to the passenger door and she climbs in, and immediately curls up in the passenger seat.

Now, find Phoebe.

So, I head back inside and do find Phoebs, who has retrieve her credit card from someone at the bar. But once we get out to the truck, she wants to get in the passenger side door. But I convince her that maybe she might not want to climb over her passed out friend to get into the cab of the truck.

But finally I have two drunk women in the cab of the truck and we are ready to roll.

The only problem is, I don't know where we're going.

(To be continued)

Drinking