This week for Theme Thursday, we’re all playing a fun game. It’s called Two Truths and a Lie. I’ve never heard of this game before so I’m not sure it’s real, I think Jenn just made it up. Whatevs, you gotta blog about something, right?
So, the object of the game is that we’re all going to tell three stories. Two of those stories will be true. One of them will be a lie. You’ll have to guess which one.
I’m going to reveal which story was a lie on my Facebook Page tomorrow, so if you haven’t already, hop on over there, click “Like,” then hover your mouse over the “Like” button and select “Show in News Feed.” That way, when I reveal The Lie tomorrow, you’ll be in the loop!
Of course, feel free to leave your guess in the comments below! (Also, if you happen to know for a fact that something is true, on account of having been there, for example, please keep it to yourself. Thanks!)
This One Time, in College, I Almost Got Arrested
I have never been arrested, but I’ve come close to getting arrested. It happened while I was in college at Hollins University in Roanoke, VA. Some friends of mine from high school were in town. For reasons I can’t recall, we were downtown, but my friends were on one side of the railroad tracks and I was on the other, and I was supposed to meet them on their side of the tracks.
Here’s where I should point out that, having grown up in rural West Virginia, I never thought anything of walking across a railroad track. So it never crossed my mind that maybe I shouldn’t do that in downtown Roanoke, even though these were the tracks in question:
So I cross the tracks and I’m about to climb over the fence on the other side, when this irate police officer appears and starts asking me what I’m doing. I mean, he was actually shouting, “Hey, you, what are you doing down there!” and I was all “I’m crossing the tracks, what.”
To which he replied, “What makes you think you can cross the tracks!?”
Which completely confused the shit out of me, because it never occurred to me that I couldn’t cross the tracks. “Um, I’m sorry, where I’m from, we do it all the time.”
“Oh yeah? Where are you from?”
And with that, this angry cop became my new best friend. “No way!” He grinned. “I’m from Clarksburg! Here, let me help you over this fence!”
And so he did.
Never Underestimate a Parisian Bum
When I was in college, I spent my senior year abroad in Paris. Most people spend their junior year abroad, but I’m not most people.
For the first few months, I lived on rue du Temple, so I used the Chatelet/Les Halles metro station a lot. One evening, kind of late, I was coming home from an evening out on the last train. I’d been out with my friends at this club in the Latin district that played a bunch of 1980s French pop, and we met a couple of older Norwegian guys who wouldn’t buy us any drinks, and got in a fight with a French woman for accidentally stealing her cigarettes.
On the way home, some random Frenchman stopped me on the rue Rambuteau and tried to get me to go home with him, and then I fell over and cut my arm. All in all, it was a productive evening.
Anyway, I was in the Chatelet metro station, moving toward the exit with all the other people who’d come from the train, when I saw this drunk woman (I assume she was drunk) fall on the escalator. She got her long hair caught in the gears and naturally, she started screeching as the escalator drug her slowly upward towards her death. Before any of us could react, this hairy, dirty homeless dude appeared out of nowhere, smacked the emergency stop button on the escalator, gathered the drunk woman up in his arms and sprinted for the surface.
I like to think he was taking her to seek medical attention. I will never forget the sound of her hair ripping out of her scalp.
I Accidentally Went to Mount Rushmore
Once upon a time, when I was young and stupid, I decided to travel the country with the aforementioned friends from high school. I say stupid because that turned out to be a colossally bad idea, but that doesn’t signify here.
One of the friends, let’s call him Mr. Clean (because he was bald and attentive to his hygiene), had some chick he wanted to go and visit in Huron, South Dakota, Home of the World’s Largest Pheasant. So, I drove him there, because I was a kind and giving person, ten years ago. Don’t worry, I’ve grown out of it since.
Well, let me tell you guys something, Huron, South Dakota is a fucking hole. No offense to anyone who currently lives or has lived there, but it is. To make matters worse, this mysterious chick, whose name I can’t remember, absconded with my friend for an entire night, and this was before everyone had cell phones…well, it was at least before me and my friends had cell phones, so me and my other friend, who knows who he is, were left sort of wandering around this cold, windy, rainy, flat hole of a town, wondering if we would ever see Mr. Clean again.
When he turned back up again, we all agreed that it was time to leave town, and because it would have been too sensible to do otherwise, we ended up leaving town at like 10:00 p.m. I was the one with the drivers license and the car because, like I said, kind and giving person.
So I drove for a while, up into the Black Hills, and then, at a random location, I decided I was tired, pulled over into a wide spot in the road, stopped, and went to sleep. The next morning, I woke up, and George Washington was staring down at me through the windshield. It turned out I’d stopped for the night in the roadside overlook for Mount Rushmore, totally at random.
Which one of these stories is a lie? Check my Facebook page tomorrow to find out! Don’t be afraid to leave your guess in the comments! To read more lies, or add your own total bullshit, click here or on the Theme Thursday badge below: