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Last night, I was exposed to more blatant displays of stupidity than I have ever experienced in my life. Well, at least since I moved out of school-sponsored housing.

Having received an email from my ex-roommate, whom we'll call Sarah, I called her and we decided to go get some coffee and "catch up" with one another. I know that I'm asking for trouble every time I see her, but I do it anyway. This time, of course, was no different. I called her up and she told me to come over, only we'd have to wait until some guy called her from a Navy ship before we could leave. That sounded innocent enough, right?

So I get there, and she decides it would probably be fun for me if she showed me all the fun things her expensive, unpaid-for computer can do. She's into computer animation, and having been in her third quarter of school when I started, she should have graduated almost a year ago. Instead, she'll graduate in December. She hopes.

So here I am, sitting on her bed, staring blankly at the screen as she shows me a series of animations that could have lulled a caffeine-addict to sleep. As she opens and closes programs and files with wreckless abandon, she tells me about this guy who's supposed to call. I'd assumed a guy calling from a Navy ship would be somewhere in the middle of the ocean, and therefore would have no opportunity to cause me any trouble. This is where I was mistaken. Apparently, the guy's ship was docked in the ship channel on the other side of town. I'd also assumed it was some guy she'd met over the internet and swindled into thinking she was some hot chick. Again, I was mistaken. She'd met him in a bar three nights before. He called her three times a day, and they were "really hitting it off."

When he finally called, she lowered her voice, to where I could barely hear her. She wasn't really saying anything of substance, just a bunch of "no-it's-okay!" malarchy (he'd called about three minutes late). Then, I hear her say, "You're at K-Mart?? Stay right there! We'll be there in ten minutes!"

What?? We're going to be right there? WE are? ...um, well okay. So we get to K-Mart, and I see this scruffy, frumpy guy sitting on the bench outside. He was not in his uniform, but rather, a pair of rather large cargo pants and a Korn t-shirt. Oh boy. Sarah runs up to him and hugs him in such a way that I was reminded of those cheesy movie sequences of people running towards one another, arms outstretched on a secluded beach somewhere. She introduces us, and I catch a sense-assaulting whiff of smoke that could have knocked a polar bear on its ass.

We went to a quiet, somewhat artsy coffee shop downtown, much to the sailor's delight. He kept exclaiming things like "This is just like a place in a movie!" and "This place is so damned cool!" The other customers were FAR from amused by the dopey-looking guy who kept interrupting their reading or poetry-writing. I, of course, was hiding my face and edging my way towards the exit, as they sat back and got all touchy-feely. I escaped to the bathroom for a few minutes and came back to find them heavily making out. Now, if you're looking for some way to embarrass/piss off someone you're hanging out with, a good place to start would be to make out with a guy you barely know in a public place in which he or she often goes while sitting next to him or her.

We then headed to Sarah's house, as she wanted to change clothes before we went to some bar, where the sailor would later catch a ride back to his ship. She decided a shower was in order, so she left me in the living room with the sailor, who talked non-stop for a good hour, before Sarah came downstairs in a hooker Halloween costume (although later I found out it hadn't been a costume at all). They went outside to smoke, busting back in a few minutes later to ask if they gave me ten bucks, would I drive the guy back to his ship later. Given the fact that I was totally broke, having spent my entire paycheck on rent, and payday wasn't for two whole weeks, I said I would. They then decided we should go eat. Sure, okay. I haven't eaten all day. Unfortunately, we never made it there.

Mr. Sailor decides it's right time he changed into his uniform, and Sarah decides that the hooker outfit isn't warm enough, and they both go upstairs to change. Upstairs. Into the black hole. I grabbed the remote and flipped though all five channels for an hour or two. I would have left, had it not been for the promise of money. Groceries don't buy themselves, for the love of God. It got to the point where I decided they must've both died of carbon minoxide poisoning or something, but I wasn't giving up my ten bucks.

They finally came down a few minutes before the guy was due back at his God-forsaken ship. I pretended I had been asleep, so as not to avoid Sarah's deepest, heart-felt apologies. She handed me the money, and we raced towards the ship channel.

I knew where the channel was, but I didn't know how to get to the actual port. Sarah told me to stay on the road we were on, but I argued that the bridge over the channel was on the highway accessible by taking the next exit. She insisted that since she'd been there the day before yesterday, she KNEW I was supposed to stay on the highway we were on. Fine.

I highly doubted she was right, but I humored her. Hell, I didn't care if the guy was late or not. I wasn't the one who was in a sickening state of post-coital stupidity over the guy. She didn't know the name of the exit we were to take, only that it started with a "C" and that it was right after the Galena Park exit. We passed a sign that mentioned Galena Park, but nowhere was a sign indicating that an exit that started with a "C" was anywhere in the vicinity. I told her we should have taken the other exit, and she still insisted we were on the right route to the ship channel. When we were about 30 miles outside of town, and further away from the ship channel, and the stupid sailor was in danger of being late back to his ship, I turned around and took them directly to the stupid ship. There was a narrow area allotted for driving that ran the length of the port and I screeched to a stop and waited for the guy to get out. They of course had to have one last little tonsil-hockey session before he toddled off back to sea. A van had pulled up, wanting to pass, but the driving area was too narrow, unless I pulled over a few feet, which was impossible, as the passenger door was sandwiched between them, and with my luck, would have fallen off had I made any attempt to move the car.

As we drove home, Sarah turned around in her seat, watching the guy walk (quite slowly for someone so damned worried about being late) to the dock. She made a point to sullenly remind me of every turn I was to take, as if the ship yard were her old stomping ground and she knew it like the back of her hand. It wasn't hard to figure out, as I'd driven in not 5 minutes before, and for some reason, her giving me directions made me want to kick her teeth in. On the long drive home, she was quiet, except for the occasional sniffle and random comment like, "He said he wants me to move in with him one day." and "He said he loved me." and, my personal favorite..."I think he was going to ask me to marry him, but he could see how nervous that made me, so he didn't." This doofy guy she'd just met three days ago. This guy who probably shacked up with a different girl everywhere his little ship docked. It was all I could do not to roll down the window and throw up for the rest of the drive home.