Ode to the Designated Driver

Posted: April 8, 2011 by VT in Daily Ramblings

Here at Bar Trash, we’re big on drinking. But not drinking and driving. That’s why we’re HUGE fans of the designated driver.

DD’s are the best friends you could ever have. While you’re doing body shots with the stranger on the stool next to you and telling the same HILARIOUS story for the fifth time in your outside voice, they’re quietly nursing a diet coke waiting to take your drunk-ass home. Like I said, they’re the best friends you could ever have.

And how do you repay them? By sitting quietly in the car until you reach your final destination, politely inquiring how their day went? No fuckin way.

You’re hanging your arms out the window, trying to wave down passing cars and screeching Kid Rock’s “Sweet Home Alabama All Summer Long” at the top of your lungs. Then you DEMAND to be chauffeured to the nearest Taco Bell where you proceed to pee in the parking lot because only the drive-thru is open and those “stupid, dipshit high-school dropouts who try to poison people with fake meat” won’t unlock the door for you. Charming.

Does the DD even get a thank-you? No. Instead, they get to clean the mess you’ve made in the backseat scarfing down your #3 Chicken Gordita value meal. Or even worse … Gordita vomit (another FABULOUS band name!).

Vodka Toxic and I wanted to share some real-life examples of how a good deed never goes unpunished. These all have a theme: How to get Drunky-Pants home when you don’t know where they live. (It seems like getting clear directions … or any directions, for that matter … is one of the biggest challenges DD’s face.)

Designated Driver vs. Drunky-Pants Example #1

VT was taking a very inebriated friend home one night after a happy hour. (To be fair, he had driven her sloppy ass home in the past.) She first tried to sober him up by taking him to a convenience store to buy some water.

Things were looking up when the guy volunteered to pay. He then took out every card in his wallet (credit, gas, insurance, blockbuster, etc.) and flicked them one by one all over the ground… all the while laughing like a maniac. After collecting the cards, and paying for the water, VT knew she was going to have to drive the guy home.

But she only knew the general area where he lived. And unfortunately, every time she tried to get the specifics, the guy would only mumble, “You live north, I live south.”

Thanks, Mr. Helpful, for that valuable – albeit far too vague – information. I don’t think Miss Toxic was looking for a compass-reading. I think she needed your address.

Designated Driver vs. Drunky-Pants Example #2

Vodka Toxic told me this tale during our recent Atlanta trip, and I laughed my ass off.

One of our mutual friends M. was graciously taking a friend home. Like the previous example, M. didn’t know where the friend lived.

At the first intersection, when M. asked if she should turn left or right, the friend (in the backseat) yelled, “Just Driiiiiiiive, Bitch!” So M. went straight.

At the next intersection, M. again inquired. “Just Driiiiiiiive, Bitch!” was the answer. So M. continued down the road.

When “Just Driiiiiiiiiive, Bitch” was again offered at the third intersection, M. wisely pulled over and dug through the girl’s purse until she found her driver’s license and address. (Designated drivers are not only nice, they’re also resourceful. Maybe because they have more brain cells.)

Designated Driver vs. Drunky-Pants Example #3

Same scenario. The designated driver didn’t know where a wasted friend lived — and she wasn’t very familiar with the part of town where the bar was located. The friend, virtually passed out in the front seat, would only say, “turn right” when asked for directions.

It was only when the kindly DD had driven in a complete square – and ended up exactly where they had started – did she know she had been duped by a drunk.

Look for more designated driver tales of woe to come. And please share some of your own! We know you have some horror stories that are too good to keep to yourself.

Click on Submit Your Shit above and share your experiences!

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Comments
  1. Once&Future_ManMagnet says:

    I want to hear the story about hitching a ride home on a Paper truck at 4 a.m.

  2. 5 dog fabulous says:

    When you find yourself driving a drunky pants home and you may not know where they live……..check their arms for directions. Some drunky pants people have visions of their future and write their address in black magic marker on thier forearm!!!!!(TD) This state of drunkeness is also referred to as “To drunk to ride in a cab!!!!”

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