The Evil Impulse
by The Upwelling

The OC (Ocean City, Maryland) - A True Story of Liquor, Sex, and Stupidity



Note: No names are being changed to protect anyone. There are no embellishments since there's really no need for any. Read on to find out what an asshole I am when I've had way too much to drink.

Califo...er...Salisbury here we come, right back where we started from.
It was the summer is 1993. At this point in my life I had two years of college under my belt and was home in Maryland for my break. A friend from college, Mike D'Anton, was visiting. Also staying at the house (besides the rents and my grandmother) was one Mr. Jeremy Brill, who was the brother of one of my brother's ex-girlfriends.

Jeremy was also a cleptomaniac and pathological liar.

John Crowell, a high school friend called. "Come on up to Ocean City!", he said. "Me and Jason rented a big hotel room for the week. You should come up!" Mike was down. The only problem was that I did not have car insurance nor a car to drive. I had been in school all year and didn't need one. Taking one of my parents' cars wasn't an option, either.

Jeremy the cleptomaniac and pathological liar had a car.

Shit.

Jeremy the cleptomaniac and pathological liar was invited to come with us, provided he drive us there and back again.

After some quick packing and a beer/smoke run by my father (thanks, pop!) we were ready to go. We decided to buy a couple of cases of Beast and many 40's of Crazy Horse. We got a huge cooler, threw it in the trunk, filled it with our drinks and packed that shit in tons of ice.

2.5ish hours later we were there. OCEAN CITY! The OC! The Boardwalk! Dirty beaches! Puke and piss and drunkards! Beach week! Hot chicks! HOT FUCKING CHICKS!

We found the hotel. Francis Scott Key Motel (thanks, Dan). In addition to regular rooms they had these little house-rooms, which is where John and company were shacked up. So there we were. Me, Mike, Jeremy, John, Jason, Lisa Baker (an ex who was now dating Jason), this guy named Bobby I went to high school with and I think a couple others. It was rad. We cracked open the cooler. That shit was ice cold from the drive up. I grabbed a 40 of Crazy Horse.



The Crazy Horse was so cold it barely had a taste. It was like drinking ice water and it was going down the same way. I polished one off quickly. At some point I said "HEY! Liz is out here somewhere. We need to find her!" Liz was another friend from high school who always went up the The OC to work for the summer at Phillip's Crab House. She actually LIVED there, too. They had these little apartments for those that were there to work for the summer. It's also where I was going to try and spend the night. Nudge nudge.

So I grab another 40 oz. and start gulping that down. I'm maybe a half hour or so into drinking. The world starts to not hold still very well and my bladder is getting to the point where I could possibly flood the entire hotel parking lot. I'm about to walk out the door to take a leak when Liz just shows up. I sit down with her on the couch and start talking her ear off, all the while drinking my precious 40 oz. At some point (and maybe more than once) I walk out the front door of the hotel house thing and pee in the shrubberies just outside. In broad daylight.

I had polished off the 2nd 40 oz. and was somewhere around my 5th or 6th beer when I realized that I was, in fact, actually on a boat during some sort of tropical storm and everything, including the hotel house hut thingies were rocking back and forth with the enormous waves that I couldn't see. But they were there, dammit. They had to be! I can handle my liquor!

Next thing I know is that's it's getting nice and dark outside. I should know. I've peed out front several times already. I'm assuming in FRONT of other tenants. Liz is still with me, just keeping me company and listening to my blabber.

And then the people I'm with decide it would be awesome to drive to the boardwalk and walk around. By this point I was starving, and to the point where I would do anything. We all piled into Bobby's truck (in the flatbed--BRILLIANT!--especially being completely ripped) and left. I vaguely remember stopping at a McDonald's. I vaguely remember getting out of the truck to go pee. On a jeep. With an alarm.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!

I climb back into the truck. We drive to the boardwalk. I'm 96% malt liquor and beer.

At this point everything starts to run together. Like I'm fast-forwarding.

We park. For some reason we go get slices of pizza. I'm ravenous all of a sudden. Most of the group walks ahead while I finish wolfing down my slice. The texture is right, but I only taste beer. Then we're walking up the boardwalk. I'm zig-zagging. I am walking up to anyone with tits introducing myself.

"Ha! Ahmm Matt! Yoo er soooe byootful!", I'd say. Then I'd shake their hands. Although most of the ladies were tolerant of this, it got me nowhere (duh). I do, however, remember one girl saying she really liked my hair. Gee, thanks.

Now, despite the fact that that I didn't have anymore to drink since we left and I had swallowed a slice of pizza, my composure began to get much worse. I wasn't sobering up at all.

I noticed kites flying on the boardwalk. I didn't know what to do. Kites? On the boardwalk? AT NIGHT? What?!?!?

I pointed to the heavens toward the kites, screaming at the top of my lungs:

"Ahhhhhhrrrg! Run fer yer fukn lives! We're being invayded!" I vaguely remember someone I was with grabbed me to get me to stop.

And then things went really hazy. Imagine if you will a hiccup in time. You're one place one second, and the next your somewhere else (but it doesn't bother you because you're too fucked up to care). More on this later.

Whatchyer name?
We are now walking south on the boardwalk. Back to the truck. We're walking and laughing. The wind is coming in from my left from the ocean. It feels great. The air is noticably cooler after such a hot, humid day. I'm 94% malt liquor and beer. There's a girl attached to my arm. Liz is smoking a cigarette. I bum one from her.

Wait a minute.

THERE'S A GIRL ATTACHED TO MY ARM.

I start to take this all in. Yup. Definitely a girl. Not just attached to my arm, but holding on for dear life. I began asking myself a series of drunken questions: Where the fuck did she come from? Who the fuck was she? Do I really care at this point? Does she want to have sex? Are we married?

She's smiling at me.

I then do the only logical thing I can do at this point and open my mouth.

"Whatchyer name?", I ask.

"Amanda.", she replies without so much as a funny look on her face. Still smiling at me.

"Riiiight. Yer prittykyute.", I said. She did appear to be attractive.

I'm still about 94% malt liquor and beer.

"Whatchyer name?", I ask. I had forgotten. I'm not joking.

"Amanda.", she says. Holding on tight and giddy.

I think at this point I may have been drooling on her, possibly pawing certain parts of her body, and most certainly trying to give her kisses. I have a vague recollection of doing this while walking, but I can't be sure. I just know that I felt like a hundred million dollars! I had some hot chick attached to my arm! Woo hoo! What a stud!

So the conversation continued.

"EyM Mahtt." I'd say.

"I know." Again, no change in mood. Obviously we had already met.

"Whatchyer name?" a third time, perhaps the 22nd time.

"Amanda." she said, patiently. "Amanda Loomis."

"Ah. Thasss rite. Wayr u frum?" I asked, sincerely (I guess).

"Charles County." she replied.

"Ah. Whatchyer name?" and so on and so on.

Right. WOW.

So after a bit, we all come to the truck and pile in. She and I sit in the flatbed with several others and like two ravenous leeches, start sucking each others faces. We're talking hard-core tongue action here. Spit flying everywhere. Feeling each other up. The works. All while the truck is moving and everyone in the flatbed with us watches. I didn't even know where the FUCK we were going. Didn't care, either. Was too busy sucking face. I had some hot chick sucking my face! What was her name again?