My friend Josh left over Christmas vacation to go out to Colorado. Colorado sounded good to him, and he likes to snowboard, and he thought he could probably get a job somewhere, he could probably find a place to live for a few months, and if he couldn't, well, he knew a few people out there and he could crash on couches and figure something out.
He called tonight to tell me he signed a lease today, and that means he's staying in Colorado for at least nine months. He got an apartment with some of his friends, and he got a job as a ski lift attendant, and at night he and his friends climb up the mountain they live on and they snowboard down in the pitch black.
But that's not all that is going on in Josh's life. On his way to Colorado, he stopped in to Wisconsin and had some times with some friends, and one night all of those friends--there were, like, fifteen of them--got a hotel room. And they went out and danced on bars and got drunk, and that's when Josh decided there was a pretty girl he wanted to hook up with. But fifteen is a lot of people to cram into a hotel room--so little privacy!--and he knew he needed to have an alternate plan if he wanted to get some.
So Josh turned to this girl and said, "So. On a scale of one to five, how bad do you want to fool around in a handicapped bathroom stall?"
And this girl looked up at Josh, and she smiled. "Five!" she said.
This, of course, was after Josh had strolled into the lobby of their hotel--a Holiday Inn--and asked the guy behind the counter if he could rent a room for maybe just an hour and a half.
"I've got this girl I want to hook up with," Josh explained. "Can I get a hotel room for that long?"
The guy said he'd have to ask his manager, but the news wasn't good. The Holiday Inn was not in the business of renting rooms by the hour so that a kid from New York could show off his best moves for this girl who was eager, who was ready.
So Josh had to improvise. And he remembered the handicapped bathroom on their floor. It was across from the vending machines.
So now he had the green light from his girl. She was excited. She was going to show him a good time. And she started tugging him toward the bathroom.
"Wait," Josh said. "Shouldn't we get a blanket or something?"
But the blanket was too much to maneuver, so they settled on a lone white towel that they spread out before having sex right there in the locked handicapped bathroom, while across the way the vending machine full of Twix and Lifesavers and Doritos and Wrigleys hummed and hummed and hummed.
The next morning Josh woke up nervous. Scared. He and this girl hadn't used a condom, and in the morning Josh suddenly realized that was a horrible, horrible idea. He started to feel a little like he did for the span of years he refused to have sex with girls--he was convinced he was going to knock someone up, no matter how safe he was--which is why he tried to convince every girl he got naked to do some anal. Real sex was too dangerous. And the morning after the handicapped bathroom, he remembered just how dangerous.
This is why Josh went straight to Target, walked up to the pharmacy counter, and asked for a pack of the morning after pill. Then he took that out to the parking lot, where his girl was standing with their friends, and he handed her the pack.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
She looked at the package. She looked at him.
"Will you take this pill?"
When she didn't say anything, Josh reached over and popped the pill out of its package. "Can you take it?" he asked. "And can I watch?"
And you know what? All of this happened even though there was a surplus of condoms hanging around. I know there was. In fact, the world knows there was. Why? Because they did this:
And let me put that in perspective for you. The British one? Yeah, he's the guy I got detained with at the border this summer.
Disgusting little felons.
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