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Needless to say, we were told to pull over so Customs could inspect our vehicle. Chong and I asked Cheech what his problem was, and he claimed he was only joking. I asked Chong if his friend was always like this. He said no, that he was a stand-up, good guy…just as a Customs agent pulled a baggie with marijuana and some rolling papers out of Cheech’s glove compartment.
“Aww, man,” said Cheech in a loud, defiant voice, “That ain’t hardly a lot of weed…hell, it’s mostly seeds.”
They took us in to the office and separated us. I was led away by two women who told me they needed to do a search of my clothing. I’d never experienced anything like this (I’ve never used drugs, didn’t drink at the time because I was underage, have never been arrested or detained, don’t have a criminal record, and had never had any problems going to and from Canada up until this point), so I said okay and asked where the changing room was. They both looked at me, stone faced, and that’s when I realized what was coming next.
One strip search and interrogation later (which included remarks like, “Just where the hell did you meet THOSE two, anyway?” and “I sure hope this is your first and last date with him….“), I was released into a waiting room where Chong was sitting. He’d been strip searched, too. He kept apologizing. I kept saying, “Apology accepted, take me home.” A few minutes later, Cheech came out into the waiting room, where he promptly tried to steal some brass hardware that mounted a document about “YOUR RIGHTS AND RESPONSIBILITIES” to the waiting room wall. (“Yo, dog, they got gold screws up in this mug!”) Chong smacked him on the head and told him to knock it off. I sat on the other side of the room, furious, frightened, and humiliated.
The border officials decided to let us go. We were denied entry into Canada that night and let off with a warning through some miracle. As we got in the car, I said only one thing: “Take me home.” I was too scared to ask the officials if I could call a cab and too embarrassed to try to call a friend or a family member for a ride. Chong kept apologizing. I kept saying, “Take me home.”
Finally, Cheech chimed in. “Yo, we know the car is clean now. Let’s try the tunnel!”
The last thing I ever said to Cheech was, “F**k you. Take me home. NOW.”
When we pulled up to my house, Chong insisted on walking me to the door, where he tried to give me good night kiss and was shocked when I pushed him away.
“Look,” he said as I unlocked the door, “I know this was bad, but I’m going to make it up to you on our next date.”
I slammed the door in his face.
Chong called me over and over again for a week afterward in an attempt to continue to apologize, but I refused to take his calls. Finally, my mom told me she was tired of him calling and that if hearing him out would end the calls, then that’s what would have to be done, so I against my better judgment, I took his call.
“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I know it was a bad night. But…I…can…..”
His voice trailed off, then there was silence for almost two minutes. He hadn’t hung up because I could still hear talking in the background. When I asked if everything was okay, he said he’d gotten distracted by a movie that was on TV at the time. There was a topless scene, and the women were so naked and beautiful, he said.
I hung up, and told my mom if Chong ever called back, tell him I’d died.
Though many girls might be put off or even unnerved by having their first date in a crawl space, I was elated. I’d had a crush on D for some time, and his asking me out was surprising and exciting. At the time, what some people refer to as “red flags” came off as charming quirks to my naive high school self. The space was decorated with stringed lights, B-movie posters and dingy couches; D called it the “Chill Zone” and warned me that it was to be kept secret at all costs.
“We can’t go upstairs,” he explained, “because my mom will ask too many questions.”
A positive start to any relationship. Before I could say anything, D changed the subject, reaching behind my sofa (which was covered in stained crocheted blankets) and pulling out a stack of straw hats and tiaras.
“Take a tiara,” he offered.
In protest I took a straw hat, something D seemed to find unnerving. He sat on the couch across from me, wearing a plastic tiara with pink jewels, his knees pressed up to his chin. The coffee table between us was scattered with drug paraphernalia and sketches of Heath Ledger’s Joker. The conversation flowed from anime to our high school and inevitably to Star Wars. Looking back, I found him interesting and funny – oh hell, I thought we were soul mates. The next day, he messaged me, shattering any illusions.
“I’m just not into girls right now,” he said with finality.
In retrospect, it should have been me saying, “I’m just not into crawl spaces right now.”
But regardless, it took a while to sort the pieces of my bad boy/creeper crush. At the end of it I still cringe and think, “I should have picked the tiara.”
Ever since I broke up with my long term girlfriend, a female friend (who is a nurse at the University of Arizona’s hospital) was trying to set me up with one of her co-workers. I made excuses for a while because I just didn’t like the idea of dating again, but I finally gave in and my nurse friend said she was going to set up a double date: it would be herself, her boyfriend, me, and a nurse she worked with that I had to meet.
The night of the date, everyone met at my house because I live in walking distance to some good restaurants and bars. I did a lot of research, planning out the night so we had plenty of options and everyone could have a good time no matter what we decided to do. Keep in mind that this was my first real date since I met my ex (three years ago) so I was kind of nervous.
Once we got to the restaurant I picked, an Italian place, I was informed for the first time that my date was allergic to gluten. Meaning she couldn’t eat anything on the menu. But like I said, I had several choices picked out, including a Greek restaurant that would have gluten-free options and was right next door to the Italian restaurant. However, my date kept insisting we stay where we were. So we stayed there and it was the most awkward meal ever. Everyone just picked at their food while my date sat there with an empty plate. She was polite about it (for now) but you could tell everyone felt pretty weird.
After that we went to a bar a few blocks away. I got a drink for my date and myself and we all sat down. I asked my date if she was hungry and asked if she wanted to go somewhere else to get a bite (since we’d all had a meal at the first restaurant and she hadn’t eaten anything). She told me that she didn’t want to eat now because it was too late and she was on a diet. I said that I knew a place within a few blocks that had late-night hours and healthy options. My nurse friend backed me up because she’d been there too, but it seemed like my date just got more annoyed. The only thing she said was that she would appreciate it if I learned how to eat with a “real woman” for “future reference.” I had no idea what she meant but I felt like she was insulting me, so I looked at my female nurse friend. She and her boyfriend were staring at me with a look in their eyes like they felt sorry for me. That’s when I knew that this date was crashing and burning beyond repair.
The worst part is that the date lasted three hours longer from that point. My nurse friend and her boyfriend took a cab home and my date refused to go with them because they lived in the opposite direction. Instead, we sat in my living room for TWO MORE HOURS before she LET me call a cab for her. The entire time we were at my house, we sat on couch while she flipped through TV shows and said terrible things about everything on the screen, like “She’s so ugly, she should be shot” or “This show is so annoying, I can’t stand it.” She also kicked over and broke an Aboriginal vase that was a gift from my parents, which I wouldn’t normally be mad about except that she just giggled about it like she thought it was cute. I didn’t even expect her to apologize or help me clean up the clay shards, but laughing about it was the worst thing she could have done and I was really insulted and turned off.
What makes it even more weird is the next time I talked to my nurse friend, she told me my date that night claimed to like me and wondered why I never called her! Maybe I’m a really dense guy, but I still can’t think of any way I could have made this chick have a good time that night, or why she said she had a good time when she actually never stopped complaining!