It was a clear, slightly nipply night in Bangor and I was working till midnight on a Saturday. The club was all set up and getting prepared and was attached to a pretty shitty Ramada Hotel that had a shuttle van that would take people all through-out Bangor.
I was goofing around in the halls, you know - normal silly-willy business and hooliganazery when the control desk asked if I wouldn't mind shuttling a bachelorette party group around for a bit. Now, two things I had learned about bachelorette party's prior to this request:
1) I am nearly irresistible to the middle aged woman.
2) Even though it is a group of women, you see a surprisingly uncomfortable amount of penis's.
Sure enough I warm up the van when 5 middle aged women come stumbling down the steps. They walked right by me and straight to the desk to ask where the driver was. The guy behind the counter pointed to me and they stared at me for about :30 seconds. After a while they approached me asking to see my license, which turns out is one of my greatest pet peeves! You see... I have come to terms with my appearance being perpetually 17 years old, but I work within the mutha-fucking night club! And to work in a mutha-fucking night club you have to be mutha-fucking 21 years of age bitch.
I digress though. After thoroughly confirming my age is 21, confirming being 5 middle aged women trying to do basic subtraction with their fingers and taking 12 minutes, I finally herded them into the van and asked where they wanted to go. They ignored my question, instead they spent about 15 minutes trying to give me a nick-name because... Even though I was old enough to be their son they needed a name that properly illustrated their molesting urges.
Now incase you haven't been adding up the time, these ladies have racked up a whopping 30 min (half hour) time limit here. Apparently a half hour for these ladies had bought me the nickname "Sexy driver", wow what the combined female mind can create, it's amazing! Like watching a kitten realize its toy mouse isn't real but then 5 minutes later pounces it as if it were.
So I dropped these ladies off in downtown to let them bar hump the town square.
What I had not known was that the XXX store just up the hill was still open and the ladies had gone there for a bit to grab some party supplies. Party supplies being penis confetti, stickers, and straws. (Revert back to lesson number 2)
I picked them up from downtown and was on my way to bring them back so that they could enjoy the last hour of the club. The ride back consisted of me asking them not to poke my ear with their straws, and praying to god they don't put the stickers on the windows.
I parked the van. I got out first and went to the other side to open the door for them. The door was one of the van doors (The ones that slide to the side). The door had barely been opened more than two feet when *WHAM* something nailed me right on the forehead. It connected HARD but bent a little upon hitting the crown of my skull. Instinctively I reached up and pulled the would-be weapon out of the woman's hand. I didn't even look at it (assuming instead it was a cane for it was 3 feet long and black) and started resting on it like a cane asking the inebriated women to step out of the van while rubbing my head. As they climbed out laughing I unknowingly hit a switch on the handle and the cane began to slightly vibrate and squirm. Looking down I realized I was holding a 3 foot dildo.
The ladies had erupted in laughter.
Thats when I came to the conclusion that this job is no longer for me. 3 weeks later, I quit that job.
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