DRIVING ALL NIGHT IN MACON

Going out with Bill never resembled a normal date.  It involved driving around in Bill's old car and listening to him spin tales of his storied career as an artist and seducer of women.  On this particular night I was high on Dave Brubeck and our fabulous evening so I started telling him about the concert, but I kept hearing little groans and sighs issuing from the back of the car but the backseat was empty.  Bill offered no explanation so I got on my knees and peered downward and there was an entwined and very drunken couple on the floor behind the front seat who were kissing and groaning and passing out.

"Who are those people?" said I in a stage whisper.

"Oh, people I know," he said airily.  "I'm dropping them off and then I have to go by my house and pick up something and then we'll get a bite to eat."

I continued with my tale of Dave and the guys and my trip backstage with Bootsie and the ten autographs, all the while ignoring the muffled cries and moans from the nether regions.  Bill was laughing at my story, completely unfazed by the grunts of passion which suddenly broke off, but were soon replaced by deafening snores.  Bravely, I continued painting a picture of my colorful evening until at last we pulled into the driveway of a darkened house and our passengers stumbled out of the car and lurched up the path to the front door.  I didn't ask who they were; I didn't want to know.

Next stop--Bill's house which was filled with his vaguely disturbing abstract art in dark purples and dirty blues.  Unframed paintings were everywhere--on the table, on the couch, on the floor and in the bathroom which was none too clean.  I decided to hold it.  And then the highlight of the evening--a trip to Krystal!

We fell on our hamburgers as if we had never eaten before and drank Coke after Coke, laughing and talking all the while, hopped up on caffeine and the excitement of staying out all night.  At last we left and drove to a secluded lane near the College where

we kissed for a long time in the moonlight.  I felt light as air, as if I were floating.

Then Bill gently pulled away and said, "We need to stop now or go ahead."  I was silent.

"I think I want to stop and go back to the dorm."

Bill nodded and started the car.  Slowly we drove toward the campus.  "How will I get in?"

"I'll call Bootsie from a phone booth and she can unlock the door.  It will be all right."

He stopped on the road by the soccer field and leaned across me to open the door and I got out.  Bill smiled and said, "Don't forget this."  He handed me the Merry Widow bra.  How had he gotten it off?  I ran across the soccer field, clutching my purse and the Merry Widow and watching out for the Night Watchman.  I finally reached the dorms and turned the doorknob at Wortham--it was locked.  Where was Bootsie?  Suddenly, I heard the Night Watchman and hid behind the bushes.  What if he found me at 4 AM with my bra in my hand?  What could I possibly say?  I'd be expelled!  Ruined!  Panicked, I rushed to the door after the Watchman passed by and started knocking. But how could Bootsie hear me--she was on the second floor!  Damn!  Here he came again on his unending rounds.  I dashed behind the bushes again and stood absolutely still until he passed by.  What if I were out here until dawn?  And suddenly, in answer to my prayers, the door opened and Bootsie, half asleep, croaked, "Come in," and I ran inside to safety.  Bootsie looked at the infamous Merry Widow in my hand and I think I saw the ghost of a smile as we both trudged up the stairs to bed.