:phone rings in dingy motel, early morning, February something, 1990, Boulder, CO (all will be made clear) :
“Is this (me)?” a voice asks.
“Yeah, that’s me.” So far, so good.
“This is the Boulder County Police Department. We found your wallet.” Better!
Me: “Wow, cool, was it badly burned?”
:a throat clears on the other end:
“Mr. (me), we found your wallet, some women’s underwear and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels by a hot tub in an apartment complex in Gunbarrel (suburb outside of Boulder, CO). We look into these things in case of possible assault.”
…silence, this time, on my end….my mind swirls. Remember, I had just woken up.
I stammer “Ummm” with tremendous poise and grace. Well, I DID know who the undies belonged to, and nothing non consensual or illegal occurred. Unless you count hopping a fence to use an unguarded hot tub at 2 AM with some friends. And the very last little bit of a big bottle of whiskey.
“Nooo, nothing like that at all. ” I manage after a moments thought. Beats saying “um” again. I explain the situation with total honesty. After a moment, he agrees with me, finds me credible. It was the truth, after all. There was maybe five or so shots in that bottle. Four people. Meh. “You probably are wondering why I thought my wallet was badly burned.”
“Well, I have to admit, that’s not the response I expected.” he replies, “What happened?”
Well, here’s what went down.
After that bit of fun at the hot tub with the girls, me and my buddy went back to the house where I was staying.
Never did find my glasses. Melted my shoes escaping. Burned my face and hair, blisters on my knuckles. We were the last two out.
Hell of a night.
This is why I asked “was it badly burned?”