I don’t need a creaming soda, I need a doctor

How did I get here? This is a question I often ask myself, although if I retrace my steps, there is usually a logical progression to exactly where I am. On this particular occasion the end result had me laying at the bottom of a rather large hill, at 2am with a badly sprained ankle and what turned out to be a slight concussion, listening to the sounds of animals which I was certain were going to tear me limb from limb like a wounded deer. They may have been stray cats but all you can see in the dark is eyes.

This predicament came at the conclusion of what could only be described as the worst non date EVER, with a guy who all my friends referred to simply as Evil Adam; the name should have been a clue. I say non date because a date implies a drink, maybe a meal and some polite conversation and not him arriving 2 hours late and acting like a total shit.

I won’t bore you with the details but needless to say, it had not gone well. It ended with a huge fight and me, being dropped off in a fairly isolated car park, surrounded by a thick wooded area. Between where I was and the 100 meters to my car there was a very steep grassy hill and total darkness. Horror movie fans everywhere would have screamed “don’t go down the hill, you stupid bitch”.

There I was in tears and very high heels making my way back to my vehicle, when huge surprise, I fell. Not just any fall mind you, I tumbled down that hill like a cat from a Looney Tunes cartoon.

I laid at the bottom of the hill weighing my options. I was too far away from my car to drag myself over to it and even if I could have, there was another problem. To add insult to injury (literally) when I lost my footing everything in my handbag had gone flying.

Thankfully my phone had been in my hand as I started the decent in an effort to light my way through the blackness and I had managed to keep a grip on it during my fall. However with my foot now so twisted it resembled a chicken wing and unable to move, I could only see as far as my phones light and my very sore neck would let me. Nowhere in that radius, could I spot my car keys.

I was an hour away from home and the only people I knew in the area were people I worked with, none of whom I was eager to call at 2am and explain this whole embarrassing story to. My only viable option was to call Evil Adam, who 10 mins earlier had screeched out of the car park kicking up loose gravel with his back tyres.

With that awkward phone call made and Evil Adam on his way back. I felt a slight sense of relief. After hanging up, I explained, out loud, that help was on the way. As if the animals that were looking at me as would be prey, would understand.

Now with nothing to do but wait, I did start to ponder why it is that I can’t go anywhere without incident. Granted, my current situation was a doozy, even for me but I do seem to get myself into situations that were potential I Love Lucy episodes, more often than the average person.

There is no shortage of examples. I once drove home naked in a thunderstorm because I didn’t want my wet dress to ruin the spray tan I’d just had done. It was a five minute drive home and the rain was coming down so hard, I was convinced no one would notice. It made perfect sense when I drove off although I did re-examine my thought process when the down pour suddenly stopped while I was parked at a busy intersection.

I once dropped a boyfriends’ air conditioner from the second story because I was trying to figure out how to lock the window. In all fairness, what kind of a halfwit doesn’t brace a heavy metal box to the wall, when it’s 6 meters off the ground?

I don’t just do ridiculous thing on my own, I like to involve other people in my craziness. Case in point, I had met Jack at a very swanky party in Sydney. He was gorgeous, an impeccable dresser, smart and funny. He was like a cartoon super hero in a Brooks Brothers suit. We had bonded during a conversation that lasted till the early hours of the morning about how conventional relationships were so passé and how much easier life would be if people had less hang ups.

We started seeing each other, very casually, which suited me at the time and it was perfect aside from one small quirk. Every time we were just about to have sex, he would pull out a tiny little bottle of something, take a sniff and then continue like nothing happened. Not just in the bedroom either. Once we were having a very spontaneous lunchtime quickie on his kitchen bench and he pulled it out of his pocket. Does he carry this stuff everywhere just in case?

I was dying to know what it was but I couldn’t ask. I was busy being the ‘cool’ girl. The ‘I don’t have any hang ups’ girl. Sure I’ll go sky diving!  You want to make out wildly in the change room at David Jones? Fine!. I think I once inadvertently agreed to go to a swingers club over breakfast in Jack’s pristine apartment. To be clear, I didn’t ever go to the swingers club but it’s hard to say no to someone with stunning cheekbones, no shirt and perfectly tailored pants.  

One afternoon, it finally got the best of me. We had been lounging around in bed all day when Jack jumped up to have a shower. As soon as the water started running I dived for his bedside draw to grab the bottle only to discover there was a whole box full of them. Was he ordering them wholesale?

When you need a question answered, the best thing to do is phone a friend, so I did. I was hoping I could read the label to my friend Mick, he could look it up online and tell me what the hell it was. Knowing Jack might be able to hear me, I decided to crawl under his bed, like the mattress would create my own private cone of silence.

Halfway through my Hardy Boys style plan Jack’s sweet, perfectly chiselled face appeared under the bed. ‘Babe what are you doing’? In an effort to explain the unexplainable I told him that my phone had rung and the call kept breaking up so I moved all over the room till I could get decent service. ‘Bloody Telstra’ I added in an effort to seem legitimately frustrated. Maybe I convinced him that the best place to get phone service in a penthouse apartment in downtown Paddington was under the furniture?

I avoided Jack’s calls after that. I was too embarrassed. Mick, who was usually my go to person for all my beyond absurd dramas, refused to commit to memory the names of guys who he knew from the start were not good relationship prospects, so to this day unless I refer to Jack as Amyl Nitrate Boy, he has no idea who I’m talking about.

Which brings me back to Evil Adam. He had now arrived back and was making his way down the hill in the dark. He found my keys and carried me back up to my car. By now it was late, I was grumpy, cold, tired and mortified that a guy who earlier in the evening I had told never to call me again, was the one person I had to call for help.

In all fairness to Evil Adam, he did come back. He asked if he should take me to hospital but it was said with all the enthusiasm of a Megadeath fan stuck at a Justin Bieber concert. I said no, hoping he would insist but he didn’t.

As he drove out of the car park, I laid back in my car seat feeling nauseous and concerned about the hour long drive ahead of me. Although I have to say I was more than a little grateful to have a metal door between myself and the cast of Wild Kingdom at the bottom of the hill.

Just as I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, I saw the light. To be more precise, Evil Adam’s headlights pulling back into the car park. Secretly I was relieved. I wound down the window to hear the words any girl would be thrilled to hear in that situation. ‘I thought you might need these if you have to drive all the way back to Newcastle’ as he handed me a bag of ice, a packet of chips and a bottle of creaming soda and drove off again.

I discovered two things that night. I needed to start listening to my head, as my heart clearly had learning difficulties and my friend Mick was never learning this guy’s real name!

Epilogue: This article was written in 2009 and and although “Evil Adam” and I never dated we actually became friends over time and he is now one of my go to people. He is still saved as “Evil Adam” in my phone. Which he kind of hates. I should really permanently upgrade him to “Awesome Adam” because he really is but where the fuck is the fun in that.