Let's Bring It Back: College Story

This story was for a book that me and my college roomate were going to write telling our funny, weird, adventurous stories of Clemson life. This came to us from one of our buddies, who, ironically enough, is married and living in Florida. Before he got hitched, he was quite the ladies man. Enjoy!

One July fourth weekend when I was at Clemson University, my roommate and I decided to take a roadtrip down to Savannah, Georgia to go and see the fireworks display. During the long and tedious four to five hour drive, I gave my roommate, who was driving at the time, the task of finding two attractive ladies to flirt with to help pass the time. Before I could get the "T" out in flirt, along comes a car with two young attractive women driving in the same direction as us. Now we both looked at each other and knew that these were the girls that were going to help us pass the time to our destination. To deny flirting with them would be like kicking dirt on God's sandals like Billy Martin of yester year. Anyways, the task offending the lovely ladies was complete, now the task of seductively wooing them as our two cars quickly passed each other around 95 miles per hour was before us. The games started with the innocent, coy, and shy moves of eye contact, and hand gestures, but little known too us, these ladies were ready to take the game to the next level. On about our fourth pass, I noticed that the girl in the passenger seat was removing articles of clothing, and as we came up along side of their car, many different body parts were pressed up against the window. This had rapidly become the coolest roadtrip any two college boys, ahem, men, could ever of been on. We quickly pretended to need gas and persuaded them to exit off the highway with us. When we pulled into the gas station, I got out of the car with my chest so proudly pushed forward, Superman himself would have looked like a twelve-year old boy. We approached the ladies car, as calm and collective as two mature, debonair men in their young twenties could, and struck up a conversation with them. As the conversation progressed, the girls became all too eager to share with us that their career path led them down the illustrious way of exotic dancing, and for a few extra dollars, they would be more than happy to show us their professional trade. At this point my friend and I have lost the mystique of having made two good girls gone bad right before our eyes. I mean what makes us any different from any other young, virile, and hormone filled male traveling on the road this very minute. We no longer felt like the chosen ones, so we politely declined, but we had a story to tell.