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The Struggle Bus of the DD

If any of you puke in my car…

I really should be studying… Isn’t that why I’m not drunk in the first place?

No…My car my music.

I love you guys. But sober me is not loving her drunk friends.

Yeah… If any of you have driven as the Designated Driver, then i’m pretty sure you’ve had these recurring thoughts as you drive your overflowing VW Jetta to a party that you don’t even know the location of. The most sober person in the car is trying to give you directions filled with “Wait… maybe it’s off of 5th street. Oh, wait, no its ON 5th street. I swear.” Or “I gotchu, it’s just up here. I’ll know it when I see it.” Elbows, hands and feet are in so many different places and you can’t even tell who’s belong to who, and there might be a couple guys in the back that you’ve never seen before in your life. Let’s just hope no one gets out before the car stops Sometimes, being the DD can be a literal struggle bus. But it’s ok, you took one for the team. They’ve probably all driven you at some point too, right?

For those of you who do this so often that you have a “Feeling Tipsy?” jar in your center console, I’ll pray for you. DDing isn’t something I do too often, but when I do, I always have stories to tell after. Like that time I turned just a little too quick and someone’s cute leather wedge shoe came flying out of no where into my cheek. Or that time where you made a rescue for a friend who was being stalked at the bar by some really creepy guy. DDing can sometimes lead to more interesting stories than a night downtown. They text you and say, “QUICK, I need you to call me and pretend like there’s some emergency so I can leave this formal ASAP.”


Picking them up might be the best part. Watching them stagger out of a party and you have that one super drunk friend who thinks they’re sober and she’s trying to keep the group together. But then she looks around and can’t find your car even after you flash your lights at her. Then she looses one who gets called away to do another shot as their walking out the door. And then there’s always the one girl who wants to stay to make out with some guy she met earlier. It’s like each scenario is an episode from Parks and Rec or New Girl. But finally they all pile in your car again, less organized than last time, and the two people in your passengers seat try and get the word “McDonalds” or “Cookout” to come out of their mouth without laughing.

All I’m saying is thank god for Uber in Greenville, but I’m not sure I could do it. I feel for the Uber I had last weekend who just got a new car and some guy almost puked on his new leather seats, but luckily opened the door just in time. So far, in my days at college, my best night driving my friends was the night where 8 people hopped out of my roommate’s SUV and as I turned down the street to my house, I heard, “Wait… Can someone let me out?” coming from the trunk.

Born and raised in Fayetteville, NC, but Ocean Isle Beach is closer to my heart. I'm an East Carolina University sophomore and a passionate English and Creative writing major.
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