When You’re Uber-Drunk

I’m on the phone with my mom when she tells me this bizarre story that happened not even twenty-four hours ago.

My mom falls asleep on the couch with my stepdad and wakes up to the door rattling as if someone is trying to open the door. My mom gets up to see what’s going on when the door opens and in walks a clearly intoxicated lady.

Mom: “I’m sorry, but can I help you?”

Lady: *Stumbling around* “No, no, it’s fine. [Name] sent me.”

Mom: “I’m sorry, but who? Why are you in my house?”

Lady: “[Name], [Name] sent me. Don’t worry.

She continues to walk around the foyer. My mom walks outside and sees a rideshare driver in the road.

Driver: “She’s all yours now.”

Mom: “Um, no, we don’t know her.”

Driver: “But isn’t this [house number five numbers down]?”

Mom: “No this is [house number].”

She pointed to our clearly-seen house numbers above the door and pillar. The taxi driver’s face paled and he started to rush up and down the street looking for this random lady’s house for whoever sent her.

In the end, she got out of OUR house and into hers, and I died laughing, glad I wasn’t there when it happened.