The Day I Corrupted a Mormon

One of my officemates was laughing at me today over a story I told him about my wild youth. I mentioned how my friend K and I would trespass on an elementary school playground in the summers between school years, where we would eat pizza and go on the swings. Not exactly badass, I know. So I trotted out my Mormon tale.

The year was 1994. It was high summer. I flew into DC from Martha's Vineyard (my first time ever on a plane) for a journalism conference. I got into a cab with George the Mormon boy. He was also going to the conference. We chatted some and got lost trying to find our hotel. Later we met up with fellow journalism students; me with a friend who was to be business manager of the paper; he with a girl from his school.

That night he came to my hotel room where I was drinkin'. And by drinkin' I mean shots of tequila. George the Mormon boy had never even had a drink of coffee and I did not force any booze on him -- I think he was feeling the thrill of freedom in the big city. He had one shot and then another. And then one more. We hooked up with a couple of super geeky-boys who were heading to the Lincoln memorial at 2 in the morning to smoke fat cigars and play chess. George the Mormon boy was drunkenly pawing me in the back seat of the car. I was having none of it. I smoked a fat cigar with the chess guys while G the Mb puked in the bushes. Then we went home.

Turns out the girl that G the Mb was with was his girlfriend, which I didn't find out until the next day when I stopped by to visit him. He looked quite green. I felt badly. I did not mean to treat him in any sort of a terrible fashion. There is a picture of him and I on my bed (fully clothed, thank you very much) in sunglasses smiling at the camera earlier on in the evening, so I like to think that I showed him a good time whilst ruining his morals.

Anyway, my officemate was impressed with the story.