Iâ€™m allergic to new car smell. I know, horrible right? There are so many other smells that I could be allergic to, Cherry Scent, Vanilla, and the Nerf Ball. Actually, the Nerf ball is one of my favoritest smells ever. As a small boy I spent hours stuffing the Nerf football into my face to soak in the aroma of manufactured plastic and foam-rubber, ahhhâ€¦the lovely smell of Dye #29.
But I digressâ€¦
As a single, well-kept (that means clean) young man in my mid-to-late twenties (Iâ€™m not going to divulge, but letâ€™s just say I can drink a Pina Colada at Fridayâ€™s anytime I want), itâ€™s often hard to find time to not only meet the right girl, but also keep from losing myself in the process.
And by losing, I mean blowing chunks. Oh boy! Where do I begin?
Her name is Alicia. My 1990 Honda Accord was on the fritz so Alicia agreed to come pick me up.
We met by chance while I was studying for Economic Statistics 312, at the local B&N, sipping my Pumpkin Spice Latte, using a highlighter with firm striping motions. I was going to memorize this textbook because knowing that selling Widgets for company X is what separates an A from a B-. Iâ€™m an A or nothing, and if my University of Phoenix professor doesnâ€™t want me to set the curve, well, he can go suck a deep fried chili con bill pizza (thatâ€™s inside pizza humorâ€¦way deep insideâ€¦).
Alicia asked if I had any 3×5 cards, and thatâ€™s when our eyes met. Well, actually, her smudged Battlestar glasses and my ridged, two-week old disposable contacts met, or were allowed to view one another.
Soon I was explaining how tough of a time it is for me to study at home, what with my roommate always trying some crazy imaginary scheme. One cannot learn the effects of the toothpaste market on the Thailand government without first learning how dental floss influenced the Chinese years before. And to do that, one needs silence, not karate attacks and efforts to constantly save my life from who-knows-what.
But câ€™mon Ted, letâ€™s get to the date.
Okay â€“ so she agrees to pick me up at our house. Floyd was inadvertently blocking the door- he nearly hanged himself by suspending from the ceiling a la Tom Cruise in MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE. So I pushed Floyd aside and joined Alicia in her brand new Scion TS. What a fun car, what a nice radio, new seats, that just out of the factory floor pleather smell, thatâ€¦wait a minute. Wait a minute!
My eyes watered, my chest heaved, my throat closed, everything was spinning, and to make matters worse, Alicia thought it was a good time to blast her Hootie and the Blowfish Greatest Hits CDâ€¦
Well, without getting graphic, I lost my lunch (breakfast was there too) on her brand new floor mats (which I was told, her Uncle had negotiated for big-time).
So our date wasnâ€™t at a Fridayâ€™s or at a Leek de Lurk, it was at a carwash, with yours truly, scrubbing the floors, the side wall, the dashboard, the windshield (even the gosh darn tootingâ€™ rear view mirror!) and all the while, fighting that new car smell that after innumerable scrubbings, still lingered. But at least it was no longer making me gag.
Finally, after two hours we were ready to be on our way â€“ and by way, I mean, take me home. We sat in the car, Alicia turned on the ignition, and then she opened the plastic package of car freshener that we had bought on our way out.
She pulled out this cute little yellow pine tree. I leaned in to take a whiff, because like I previously said, I love smells. And yellow pine, who doesnâ€™t love yellow pine? Wait a minute. Pineâ€¦isnâ€™tâ€¦yellow. It isnâ€™tâ€¦oh noâ€¦it is. New car scent.
Who wouldâ€™ve thought there was anything left in my stomach after my previous barf session- but there was! Oh boy, a lot. And by a lot I mean I saw corn from my Campbellâ€™s Big Spoon soup way back on Monday.
I had to walk home. My pants, my shirt, my shoes and socks soaked with soap suds and bits-o-hurl.
I walked in the house and found Floyd still dangling upside down, his head nearly full with blood. I could have just gone to my room, but instead, I grabbed the tree trimmer from outside, sawed away at the ropes and watched him fall the ground.
He fell with a mighty thud, I chuckled, and then my stomach lurchedâ€¦boy, what a rotten night.
Next time, fellas â€“ do yourself the favor, meet her there. Besides, you wonâ€™t have to listen to Hootie, and thatâ€™s more than worth its price of admission.