The Time Eric Almost Killed Me In The Special Programs Van

See, the thing about going to Pepperdine is either you have A LOT of money, or you don't.  My roommates couldn't wrap their minds around why I needed to find a job, or why I could not go home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas.  I just simply could not afford it.  They also didn't understand why I smoked pot, played Super Nintendo all day, amongst other things, why I hated it there.

I know, poor me.

But I digress.  Those of us who did not have the luxury (or for me, the desire) to return home for the summer and do nothing, got a job.  One of those jobs allowed you to stay on campus and work for the University, while it rents out it's facilities to conferences and the like.  They have all kinds of weirdos traipsing through campus, living in our dorms and Power Pointing the hell out of some very important stuff.

"I'm talking..."  "No, I'm talking..."

 
Basically, we were glorified maids.  However, we got to stay on campus, fuck around and do whatever we wanted, and broke every rule in the book.  It was awesome.  We ate in the cafeteria in the mornings, and changed beds in the afternoon.  Sometimes we moved tables.  Mostly, we smoked weed and drank.

One of my best pals was this dude Eric, whom I had been homies with during the school year.  He and his pal Jeremy used to make me laugh my ass off.  Eric also invited me to my first step show.  It ruled.

Eric drove the van.  Now when I say "van" I mean, a white, disgusting, OLD, Dodge van with no seats and barely any seating.  It was meant to pick up linens and drop off things at the dorms.  I actually think there was a hole on the floor on the passenger side, if I remember correctly.

Looks about right...

Eric and I had the awesome duty of  picking up dirty linens one fine day, so we decided that of course it made sense to take all the turns on "Dorm Road" (as they called it) at about forty to eighty miles per hour.  With no seat belts.  Laughing our stupid asses off until the unthinkable happened.

Eric fell OUT OF THE DRIVER'S SEAT.  Literally like slid out, onto the floor, busting his gut the entire time with NO FEET ON ANY PEDALS, attempting to get back up, into the seat to drive.  I was picturing my eminent death.

This is what I saw, in my mind.

Eventually, in what seemed like seconds, he had fully recovered and was behind the wheel.  I think we were both silent for a good three minutes, which for us, is a long ass time.  When I looked at him, and he looked at me, and I have never laughed harder in my life. 

Eric and I are still great friends, he has a beautiful family and is an all around Mr. Wonderful.  I however, never let him forget the time he almost killed me.  For real.