Dear Guy I Almost Watched Get Run Over By A Train After Drinking Too Much Whiskey
First of all, I don’t like you. I just want to make that perfectly clear. I don’t care for your kind of shenanigans and I didn’t care to be a part of them.
I didn’t even care to be at your party in the first place. When I found out that the location of said party had moved from a house to a little place under a bridge by the railroad tracks, I did not jump for joy - quite the contrary. Do you think a girl like me enjoys maneuvering down a wall of rock at least two times as tall as she is? Trick question, because the answer is a very obvious “no.” But I’m a trooper, and my high school prom date that I hadn’t seen in a year was down there by the railroad tracks, and I knew that, so dutifully I crawled through the hole in the fence and worked my way down the rocks by stepping on some dudes’ shoulders. And then I met you.
I suppose when one attends a bonfire under a bridge by the railroad tracks, one should expect that those specific partygoers will be drinking like hobos, but tragically, I did not. But luckily, I caught on quickly as a train went by shortly after my arrival and you stood entirely too close to it, hooting and hollering like a hobo drinking under a bridge (which, as far as I know, you certainly could have been). I pushed aside the nervousness you caused me and instead focused on my prom date and his guitar playing, but of course, you just had to raise the stakes.
The first thing I thought when the train whistle blew in the distance and you settled yourself in the middle of the tracks was that I had seen this happen in a film before. The next thing I thought was “this kid is out of his mind.” The third thought I had, and the one that lasted the longest, was “this kid is going to get run over by a train right now.”
If I could give you one compliment, it’s that you do know how to build suspense. As the train rolled into sight and your friends yelled and pleaded with you to get off the tracks, you held steadfast. It was only at the last possible minute that you allowed your friends to pull you up and back to safety, and that takes some dramatic skill, and I commend you for that. However, it doesn’t change the fact that you are one of the douchiest douches I’ve ever seen have a near death experience. Nothing will change that.
Love,
Emily
P.S. I think I saw you at a concert last night wearing the same thing you wore that fateful first time I met you - cargo shorts, a wool hoodie, and a bandana covering dreads. You should know that God’s not going to keep watching over you if you keep looking like a tool.
