Drunk Stories

. . . all in a minivan

This drunk story takes place back several years ago when I was in high school. Back during my sophomore year in high school one of my buddies would throw these kick ass parties at his house because his parents would go out of town very often and he lived in the country. One of these particular weekends he had a party, and we proceeded to get shitcanned then went to a dance hall near his house. When we got back to his house it was around 2am and we were plowed and decided to bash mail boxes in the country. I was only 16 and didnt have my own car so I was driving my mom's mini-van. About 6 or 7 of us piled in along with an ice chest, a crow bar, and a sledge hammer and we bashed several boxes along a road. We even pulled them out of the ground and threw them in the middle of the road.

After about half an hour we were driving and a cop passes us, and he pulls a u-turn and his lights come on. Everyone of us shit a brick and I pull over. The cops comes up and asks where have we been. I respond by telling him we left the dance and took a friend home. He says he pulled us over because there was a report of vandalism and we acted dumb. He took the plate number and examind the front of the MINIVAN and said he looked over to make sure we werent the ones running them over. As he walked back, he shined his light in the van, how he didnt see the ice chest in the back is beyond me. So he let us go, without finding any crowbar or sledge hammer or ice chest. We got the hell out of there and went to a party in the woods somewhere and stayed until dawn just to make sure. That wouldve been some shit.

By the way the next weekend, three of my buddies bashed some more on the other side of the county. But this time, one of their spirals with their name on it fell out. They got a call Monday morning from the sheriff and they had to pay and reset 8 mailboxes out of their pockets or face criminal charges.

Jeff H

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