accidentally Kidnapping an Armenian princess

Really bad date # 3

savannah

https://www.everyculture.com/Russia-Eurasia-China/Armenians-Marriage-and-Family.html

Back in 1999, I was your stereotypical 19 year old surfer dude…that didn’t actually know how to surf. I was just starting to discover the internet when AOL was really the only form of Internet dating. This was before the times of cutting and pasting some douchy opening line and then picking out the 60 hottest girls on the site within a hundred miles of where you lived and picking out the one that seemed the most interested. This was about the time when dinosaurs ruled the earth and you plugged in a 56k modem to your phone line and couldn't use the phone when you were on the internet. The closest thing to a dating site were chat rooms and instant messenger. When you get into a chat room you would have to punch in things like; 19/m/Seattle which was the introduction format that means that I am a 19 year old male living in Seattle. I had been doing this for a while and I had met my fair share of girls online, for the most part they were usually just bored college students and at the time I was in college and I was bored as fuck too.

Most of the girls that I came across online were from out of state and I have no other way to judge their character or looks other than by the pictures that they had sent me via e-mail and whatever banter they could use to get my attention.. If they were hot enough however, I didn't care much about their banter and would continue to chat with them....Or, get talked at while I responded “uh huh”, or “yeah” or “oh, thats amazing” while playing online poker at the same time.

I had been on a few dates that I had met online in North Seattle, and most of them seemed much less interesting..... and a lot fatter in person. I was still sort of dating my high school sweetheart Jessica, but that relationship was coming to an end because of the distance factor.

I was trying to find new adventure. I started talking to a girl from Glendale, California. Named Angineh, she called herself, “Angie”. At the time I was talking to a whole bunch of different girls from all over the U.S. and I referred to her as the “Hot Mexican looking one” and she repeatedly corrected me. “I am Armenian”. But of course, I said "whatever, you look Mexican" ( As i found out later, that was extremely insulting to an Armenian).

Angineh ended up getting engaged to some Armenian dude during the few months that we had spent chatting online, so as a friendly gesture; she kind of pawned me off to her best friend Savannah.

Savannah was very interested in me for no particular reason. She was 19 as well as I was at the time. She liked the whole surfer boy look, and at that point in my life; I had long blonde hair, tattoos and i was tan. I sort of had that bad boy look to me which she apparently creamed over (in sin). I couldn’t tell you all the details of all of our conversations (mostly because they would bore you to death) but to break it down: we had similar interests in music and life in general. She was very conservative and very religious. At the time I had just finished Catholic confirmation, which was the climax of my 18 year debriefing of the catholic religion. I had spent 18 years of my life being force fed everything that made me realize exactly how much I didn't want to be involved in a religion based on guilt and sacrifice. Going through confirmation basically means that after you go to Catholic school, spend countless years going to classes after school to learn about Jesus and God and the Apostles and blah blah blah...you are finally given the opportunity to continue on with the religion or not.

Some folks go balls to the wall with Catholicism; whether it be “becoming a priest”, “Becoming a nun” or just following the religion at all without actually being forced into it any more. Unfortunately…..in most cases....people choose not to be involved at all, because they have spent most of their adolescent and early years being forced into something and psychologically for most people; we will retaliate when given the first opportunity.

I believe religion as a whole is a good thing and it teaches morals among young lives and gives hope to folks who are at the end of theirs. I believe that if the Taliban really believe that they are going to get a whole bunch of action from virgins after they crash a plane into a building full of innocent people is a crock of shit but otherwise religion is o.k. with me....two thumbs up.

Over the course of 6 months or so Savannah and I would sometimes spend hours talking about nothing in particular over the phone and I believe we actually got to the point where we started telling each other "I love you" over the phone. Savannah had never drank alcohol, smoked a cigarette, smoked weed, or had any sexual relations i don't even think she has had caffeine willingly. Even though I had experienced all of those and more, I felt like we connected spiritually. It even got to the point where we started calling each other boyfriend/ girlfriend, even though we had never really met in person.

We had another one of those long four hour phone conversations, but this time it ended with Savannah telling me that she wanted to have sex with me, she wanted to try alcohol with me, and she wanted to try smoking cigarettes and marijuana with me, she said also said: “if we hit it off as well in person as we did on the phone, that we could get married and I would never have to work again”.

From what she said: her parents own some huge company in Beverly Hills and they are loaded. This may or may not have been the exact moment when my inner douchebag was born.

Let me break this down.....I have a beautiful girl on the phone, who is a virgin, that has never drank, never smoked... anything. She hasn't even done anything that you could even consider immoral, and she wants me to take it all from her?

My inner Catholic was telling me to keep it simple and don't show signs of weakness and don't fall into a life of sin and debauchery, but instead.....

This happened...

A week later I was on a Greyhound bus to Glendale, California. I didn't have a job and I was on summer vacation with a bunch of money saved up from working at a restaurant in Ballard, Washington while i was in school in North Seattle. I really needed an adventure. Plus I sort of felt like I was in love with her in some strange way. She was willing to give up all of her innocence for somebody that she met online and I was willing to take it from her.

The Greyhound trip was an adventure in itself. I got to the Greyhound station about 2 hours early. It was 8pm and my bus wasn't departing until 10:10, so i decided to do a little bar hopping with my new fake id. I picked out the first bar i could find...almost exactly kitty corner from the bus station. I walked in with confidence, this was back in 1999 so the very few fake ids that were made, were practically perfect. No one could tell it was fake. I bellied up to the bar consisting of approximately 6 guys and 1 person that was questionably a girl, which is pretty standard Seattle bar ratio. The bartender was a black man with a handle-bar mustache. He looked just like Isaac from the love boat.

I didn't have a whole lot of experience in a bar so i made sure i knew what i wanted before i walked in the joint. "A shot of captain morgan's and a bud light please". The 1999 reincarnation of shaft brought me the sauce without hesitation. There were a couple of guys behind me playing pool. (I don't know why but i always associated people playing pool in a bar with bar fights, and i chose to keep my distance. It may have also had something to do with my anxiety problem.) I was baffled when the taller of the two well-dressed-mid-forties-average-joe-pool-playing gentlemen walked up and asked my name. I am a pretty avid bar hopper over the years, and to this day; that was the only time someone has ever just walked up from behind me and asked me my name.

Both of the pool players ended up being very friendly and we talked for a while as they were finishing up their game. I told them the story about how i had just met some girl over the internet that lives in California and I was taking a bus down there to meet her. They both seemed a little surprised, almost kind of agitated. "This must be kind of a strange place for you to be in, if you are meeting a girl in California then isn't it?" Asked the shorter of the two. "What do you mean" I asked. "The taller of the two walked up to me quietly while he was chuckling through his nose with his hand over his mouth like a high school cheerleader" put his hand around my shoulder and said with a slight lisp (that i hadn't noticed before) "Look around Hef, this is a gay bar". I looked up and as soon as i glanced up at the bartender he was already looking at me. He gave a cheerful wink and a smile. My eyes grew wide for a second, but my eyes continued to wander to the corner of the bar where i saw the only girl in the room making out with some guy. This was the girl that I had noticed when I entered the bar and thought she was questionable at first. However, I meant questionable as a prostitute or just a really terribly dressed girl. That was precisely the moment that i noticed the Adams apple and 5 0'clock shadow on the girl.

That was my first encounter with a transvestite...but wouldn't be the last in my lifetime. I was 19 years old and had no idea what was outside of Bainbridge Island, Washington. I had been brought up a very strict catholic boy and didn't even know what a cross dresser was. Even in my first year of college most of my peers were heavily religious and had never seen a cross-dresser. My friend “Mo” (Mohammed) was in a religion so strict that they weren't even allowed to masturbate. (Dude, if I couldn't at least masturbate I would probably drive a plane straight into a fucking building)

The guys asked if i was o.k. with being in a gay bar, and I actually was pretty ok with it. I am very comfortable with my sexuality and as long as these guys don't try to pull a train on me, i'm totally cool with them. They asked if i wanted to play the winner at pool, and i'm guessing they thought i would decline and make a bee line straight out the exit door...the fact that i didn't opened up a whole new door with them. (no, not that door)

The taller of the two, “Jim” asked if i had ever tried cocaine. I lied and said “yes”. He said he left a little present for me on the back of the toilet in the men's restroom when he went to pee.

I saw the bindle of coke sitting on the toilet paper dispenser. I learned how to properly chop lines from watching movies like Scarface, so i didn't have any problems getting the drugs up my nose. Unfortunately I never really knew about the effects of drugs like cocaine. I just thought it would be like weed, (where it just makes you tired and hungry and stupid). Oh no siree!!! I was flying high as a kite. I did a fat line and stuck the rest of the bindle in my pocket. I was 19, half drunk, and for everybody who has never actually tried this magical combination: booze and cocaine is like nitro-glycerine to the brain. ...It is what I like to call a Brain-gasm.

I hadn't even really started the adventure yet, and I'm already doing cocaine on the back of a toilet in a gay bar that i was illegally drinking in. I was talking a mile a minute to this bar full of gay guys, transvestites, and a bar tender about this girl I was in love with that I had accidentally met on the internet. We all swapped great stories of love...some were amazing and left me breathless, and some were incredibly gay....like sado-masochist-turn-my-virgin ears-off-----gay.

By the time i had to leave and get on the bus i was on a first name basis with everyone in the bar, I almost didn't want to leave. I had heard everyone's story in that short time and every one of them individually gave me a hug and wished me luck on my journey to Los Angeles. I have been comfortable in gay bars ever since.

The bus ride there was only mildly entertaining. I had managed to smuggle a couple hundred bucks worth of pot on the bus so every time we stopped for gas or food i would sneak off somewhere and take a couple rips off of my mini-toker(creatively disguised as a cigarette) I made couple of friends on the bus on the way down with this tactic, and (sharing of course). One was a skinny Japanese guy with a mustache named Henry, I'm guessing he was in his mid 40s, but you can never tell. (once a full blown Asian person hits about 35 they turn 50, and stay looking 50 until they are 120). He said that he spoke Kanji, so i asked him to translate the tattoo on my arm that I had always told people translated to "suck my balls". He said that it says "Passion in Music"...which is fitting. I was relieved! He also said that music is also the word for freedom. So that actually makes a lot of sense. I am a free spirit and have a huge passion for music. STOKED!!!!

Its funny how many dumb asses get a Kanji tattoo without being 100% about its translation (such as myself). I got lucky, but I'm sure there is a whole slough of jackasses out there with something like "Ball sweat" or "Leaky vagina" Tattooed on their arm and they wonder why they get laughed at when they are walking the streets of Tokyo in broad daylight. I offered Henry half of what was left in my bindle for the translation, but he declined. I did it all in small bumps, starting somewhere around Eugene Oregon and finally took the last big one around Eureka, California at like 7 am. I was wired for a solid 12 hours until we got to our first layover.

I had made friends with another guy named Jack on the bus. Jack was mid-forties/ early fifties, overweight, unemployed and he was going to Los Angeles to work with his brother at Amtrak. The three of us had a layover in Sacramento at 8am for a couple of hours. It was still sort of dark, and we were right across the street from the Hard Rock Cafe. My cocaine buzz was wearing off. We all put our faces to the window, as if we were 6 years old and Santa clause was feeding his reindeer across the street. So naturally we casually strutted over and proceeded to rack up a couple hundred dollars worth of drinks on one tab.....

During our visit at the Hard rock cafe, we all got a chance to tell our life stories. Which at 19...mine was pretty frigging boring to be honest. Their stories weren't all that impressive either. We knocked down about 6 shots and a couple of decent beers off of the tap. I was sufficiently wasted enough to level out the free cocaine that the Gay guys gave me. I pretended to go to the bathroom at which point (I may or may not have walked out on the huge bar bill, and passed out in back of the bus before they got back.)Henry got off the bus in Bakersfield which was only a few hours away so I was still asleep when he got off the bus. Jack also got off before me so i never got a chance to say goodbye to either of them. (If either of you read this.....thanks for paying the bar bill!!!!!) =)

I arrived at the Los Angeles Greyhound station at somewhere around 10 am the next day. Keep in mind that this was 1999 and 19 year old kids didn't have cell phones, so i had to use the payphone to call Savanah. It only took a few minutes for her to get to the station from her home. When she arrived in her parents red chevy suburban, my breath was actually taken from me. She looked like Salma Hayek crossed with Cleopatra. She was gorgeous! I could tell just by seeing her profile through the suburban window as she drove by. I on the other hand hadn't showered in 2 days. I was still hungover from getting wasted with Jack and Henry at the Hard rock Cafe. I had been wearing the same clothes since the morning I left Seattle. I must have smelled like a the first floor urinal at the Superbowl.

As Savannah was parking, I frantically dug through my bag to find anything that resembled cologne so i could just give myself a “french bath” before burning the nostril hairs off of the girl i was about to make a first impression on. To no avail....sadly....what i did have was half of a used deodorant stick that had melted in the summer heat into my single bag of luggage. I had created a small lake of liquid deoderant under my clothes in the few minutes that I had been in Los Angeles.

I took a handful of the goo that the L.A. heat had created and shoved it under my armpits and wiped some on my belly, back and neck. She jumped out of the Suburban wearing a sexy red summer dress....as I was rubbing liquified deodorant on my belly; she approached me in stunning sunshine glory.

My head perked up to notice her beautiful flawless, beautiful face as I wiped the remains of my melted deodorant stick from my hands onto my unwashed Goodwill shorts. Her hair was straightened and freshly washed. It was like watching the slow motion running scene at the beginning of Baywatch, everything she did was in slow motion.

However, after considering my physical condition, I would have to blame the slow motion vision that I was experiencing at the time.... on the last 12 hours of hard alcohol drinking and weed smoking. Even though it was fucking awesome!

After our long awaited make out session in the Bus station parking lot. We ventured off to Glendale where Savannah lives. I was so excited to be there that I started screaming out the window. FUCK YAAAAAAAAAA!!!! I'm in L.A. Bitches!!!!!~!! Savannah pulled me back into the Suburban and said very sternly “you can't do that here” “Why the fuck not? I asked “What are you afraid of your own town?” She looked at me in distress as she answered back…”This is a bad part of town”. I was covered in deodorant stick and the stink of weed, alcohol sweat and cigarettes as I responded: “Oh really? What part of town are we in?”(not knowing anything about L.A. at all). She looked at me with her beautiful brown eyes and actually sounded mad for a second: “We are in Compton!, now roll up your window and lock your door”. She said very seriously. After catching a glimpse of my surroundings, I noticed that there was graffiti on every sidewalk and every building in the area. “Wow, I should probably invest in spray paint companies if I move down here” I said jokingly....(but still to this day, I wish that I had invested in spray paint companies.)

We got to Glendale, in what seemed like 5 minutes. I wanted to make sure we had a little something to sip on to fuel the fire of bad decisions, so I asked where the nearest liquor store was. (one of my favorite things about California is how accessible liquor is.

Not only Was there a liquor store on almost every corner in southern California but you could also buy hard alcohol in grocery stores….no wonder the cost of living was so high there…it’s paradise!!!

I left savannah in the car while I used my fake id to buy us a fifth of Bacardi light. She had never drank alcohol, so I figured Bacardi and Coke was a good way to start. You can poor them light at first and once the alcohol starts to kick in a little bit you don’t really taste it any more anyways, so you can start a full blown guzzling episode in no time.

We got to Savannahs house and it was empty. She told me that she lived with her parents and sister in a big place in town. I guess we have a different take on “a big place, in town” Well to be fair it was pretty big….for an apartment, and since there was only two large buildings in Glendale, and they lived right next to the Nestle building you could probably say by technicality that they do in fact live right in town. It was well decorated, with lots of plant life and artwork on the walls and hallway. The living room was very large and attached to a small but very open kitchen. There was one hallway that ran underneath a small loft where savannah’s 17 year old sister Gemini slept. The loft was accessible only through savannahs room so in order for her to go to bed she has to go through savannahs door and up a ladder to the loft where she basically just had a mattress on the floor and a computer desk against the wall. The hallway had three doors. One straight ahead and one on each side. On the left was savannahs room and the right was her parents room. The center was the bathroom. Savannah also had a door going from her room to the bathroom. I find it hard enough living with just one adult female. I could only imagine how annoying it must be to have 2 teenage girls in a house and have to share a bathroom. We all know how girls like their bathroom time. I wonder if this trait has been implanted in the brains of women since the beginning of time. I could only imagine in the times of Christ when Mary and Joseph were about to go out and Joseph needed to use the bathroom, but Mary was busy applying her dirt based foundation and rubbing tea leaves in her hair…or whatever they used back then. She would say things like “be out in a minute” or “be right out” but Joseph knew better…Maybe that’s why they never fornicated. Mary was always in the bathroom. Just a thought.

So Savannah and I got right down to business, we cracked open the bottle of rum and each took a shot. She had that look on her face like she had just swallowed gasoline. She coughed and her face turned red. She finally calmed down and by that time I had already mixed her a rum and coke to chase it with. She took that down like a champ. I told her that I had smuggled a bag of weed with me on the trip and asked if she wanted to try it. She said “Sure” with enthusiasm. “well shouldn’t we do it outside’? I asked. “No, my parents wont be home for a while, they are at work.” She reported. I had pre-rolled a joint that I had stuffed in the zip lock bag with the rest of my pot. I took it out and sparked it up. We got about half way through the joint and started making out really heavy. We each took one more huge shot of rum and washed it down with another cocktail, this time the cocktail was a much stronger one. She was starting to feel the effects of alcohol. She had never experienced it before, but I could tell she is going to be a rowdy partier someday. She opened up almost immediately about how her parents have been extremely strict with her upbringing. All, of the things she wanted to do (and should) have experienced, like sleepovers at friends houses, or even just dating, but her parents rarely let her leave the house. She said that she was actually a party of the royal family of Armenia. “A princess” however she had no interest in claiming any royalty while residing in a country half way across the world. She was ready to break the mold and she wanted to try everything that she has been missing out on during her teenage angst.

So there we were, in her bedroom; stoned and half drunk. It hadn’t even been an hour since I had arrived to Los Angeles when she asked if I still wanted to “do it”. I said “of course”!!!

I was expecting it to be awkward, but it felt very natural and comfortable. We knew each other on a personal level so well that I felt as if we had been dating for months. I don’t need to get into too much detail…but there is a certain something that happens to a virgin when she does it for the first time. It was painful at first for both of us, but it popped and created a whole new world for both of us. We did things that would make the writers of the kama sutra blush. 

When we finished, we held each other for a while and I asked if she minded if I smoked a cigarette. She said “no, as long as you don’t leave the bed”. So, I sparked one up and used the empty coke can that we used to mix drinks with as an ash tray. She wanted to try it so I gave her a couple of drags and of course she then proceeded to cough her little virgin lungs right out. So to summarize what had just happened…

I had just taken a sweet Armenian princess and took everything innocent from her within 2 hours of meeting her. She was half drunk, stoned, deflowered, and she had just lit her very first cigarette.

That was precisely when the inevitable buzz kill knocked on her bedroom door KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!! SAVANNAH!!!?? A mans voice yelled through the door. I turned to Savannah “I thought you said they were at work” I whimpered. “They were supposed to be, they never come home early” she whimpered back.

Savannah's dad started yelling through the door in a different language. I couldn’t understand anything, so I just watched Savannah’s face to judge what kind of trouble we were in. She started yelling back at him in the same language…I can only assume it was Armenian. Duh. They went back and forth for a good 30 seconds or so.

I was petrified with shock; I asked what was going on…she said “oh my god, its Saturday” They just went to the store. That’s why they weren’t here”. She said whining. “How long have they been here”? I whimpered.

Savannah got up and walked towards the door (completely naked)...which was awesome under any other circumstances. As she was putting her dress back on, she turned towards the door and translated the same question in Armenian (how long have you been here?) Her dad immediately rifled back in English “2 hours!!” “Oh Crap!! So they were here the whole time?” Savannah looked at me with her head down but still looking me in the eyes. “Yes, they heard everything and said it smells like marijuana in here.” “OPEN THE DOOR SAVANNAH!” I scrambled to get dressed and get rid of the remainder of the joint that was sitting on her window sill and put it in the can with our freshly smoked cigarette butt. Savannah got up and unlocked the door without hesitation. Her dad opened the door and took in a breath through his nose like a bloodhound on the hunt for a prison escapee. His nostrils flared, and he looked me right in the eyes. He looked like Saddam Hussein but shorter and fatter, he was wearing a suit, not a fancy one but khaki slacks, and a matching sports jacket and red tie. I saw his wife behind him with scared bug eyes looking at savannah and then at me. She was pretty, definitely Indian looking but not wearing doilies on her head like you see in national geographic. She was dressed very American…jeans and a white button up short sleeve shirt. They actually looked very respectable and professional, like a couple you might see dining in a country club in my hometown. Savannah’s mom said very little in the conversation…or shouting match rather. Savannah’s sister Gemini had just come in the front door as this was happening. She looked at me wide eyed as what I can only assume was profanity coming out of her parents mouth. They were obviously yelling about me. It sounded like Savannah was trying to defend me. She made hand gestures towards me as they were going back and forth…Her father started pointing at me as he was yelling at her. This has to be bad; Savannah was starting to cry uncontrolably. I turned to Gemini and asked what they were talking about. She said, “My parents said you have taken Savannah’s innocence and you have disgraced our family”. They said you brought drugs into the house and they saw blood on her sheets. (Insert Armenian religion facts about pre-marital sex here) They also said they have called Sevak, our older brother. They said he is going to kill you when he gets off of work.

Dave: Like literally?

Gemini: You don’t realize how big of a deal this is do you?

Dave: No I guess I don’t…how big of a deal is it?

Gemini: You have destroyed any possibility of Savannah having a traditional Armenian wedding.

Our family has generations dating back hundreds of years that had a traditional Armenian wedding. She is the first impure person in our family now.

I looked over at Savannah, she had tears running down her face. She looked at me and said (still weeping) “you need to get out of here, my brother will be here in 3 hours”. I was very calm, considering that someone was actually plotting to kill me in the next 3 hours in a city I have never been to, with some girl I just met over the internet…whose parents apparently don’t speak English. It may have been the fact that I was half drunk, stoned and just deflowered an Armenian girl. I walked to the Ralph’s Grocery store a couple blocks away to call my mom from the payphone.

Dave: Mom I pissed off an Armenian family, and I need to get out of town.

Mom: What happened?

Dave: Some things happened with Savannah and I. Her parents heard everything and they are pissed!!

Mom: what should I do?

Dave: I don’t know…who do we know in L.A?

Mom: Is’nt your friend Kate down there somewhere?

Dave: Ya! She lives in San Diego. She kept telling me I should come down and visit her. I guess this is my chance. Can you get her phone number for me and call me back at this payphone number?

Mom: Sure, I’ll look up her mom’s number in the white pages and call her right now.

I waited for what seemed like an hour but was probably more like 5 minutes. The phone rang and it was Kate. “Hello, David Hefner”! (she is still the only person besides my mom that calls me David, rather than Dave, or Hef. She is with out a doubt the only person that addresses me with both my first and my last name) she has kind of a condescending valley girl tone of voice that I have always found comforting rather than irritating. Kate was my homecoming date during my freshman year in High School. She was a Junior at the time so she was 2 years older than me. She was tall and blond, with a pretty face. She actually ditched me on homecoming night for some guy named Matt. I wasn’t actually upset then or now about it. She led me to my first real girlfriend that night who I am still friends with to this day.

Dave: Heya Kate how are you?

Kate: David Hefner, what are you doing in Los Angeles?

Dave: I met a girl off of the internet, and her family wants to kill me. Any way you could pick me up?

Kate: Ya, I can be there in about 2 hours.

So I gave her directions to Savannah’s house and went into Ralph’s for a little bit to kill some time. I called my mom back to let her know that I was going to San Diego for the remainder of my trip. I only had about 15 minutes before Kate’s projected arrival time. I had no choice but to walk back to Savannah’s house. I got there and looked up into the living room window hoping to spot Savannah, I could see her father looking right down at me from his bedroom window right next to the living room. I sat quietly on the curb waiting for Kate to show up. I could feel Savannah’s parent’s eyes beaming on the back of my head. I heard Savannah and her father both give one last burst of verbal warning to each other, then she came down the stairs and sat right down next to me. She put her head on my shoulder and said

Savannah: “don’t worry, everything is going to be alright”.

Dave: I know, I just called a friend of mine to pick me up. She will be here in 2 hours.

Savannah: I don’t want you to go.

Dave: There is no way your parents would let me stay.

Savannah: No, they wont even let you back in the house.

Dave: Wow, so they are super pissed then? How do I get my stuff?

Savannah: Ya, Ill go get it for you.

(This was a photo taken at the stairs in front of Savannah's parents house, moments before we left Glendale. It was taken by her sister “Gemini” on a crappy cell phone in 1999. I didn't bother to alter it because you wouldn't be able to recognize either of us anyways.)

Savannah was only gone for a couple of minutes. She came back with my duffel bag, and one of her own.

Savannah: I packed a few extra things so we can be gone for the full 5 days before your bus leaves back home.

Dave: Wait what? You are coming with?

Savannah: Ya, of course. I love you and i'm coming with you.

Dave: I really don’t think that is a good idea.

Savannah: Don’t worry its fine. My family will get over it. I know my brother and all I have to do is talk to him, and it will be ok.

Kate pulled up just as we were discussing: exactly how bad of an idea it would be to bring savannah with us. I gave Kate a big hug and introduced Kate and Savannah. Kate has met a lot of girlfriends of mine over the years. She has always been on their side about their relationship with me. I swear she is like some sort of diabolical cock block most of the time, however this time..she actually encouraged the girl to get in the car and come with us.

Savannah didn’t hesitate to hop right in the back seat with her duffel bag when Kate told her to come with us. I knew that this was a bad idea. I admired Savannah’s bravery and understood years later, that she needed to do this to break free of her parent's anti-independence prison. She needed to get out and see the world...explore life's possibilities a little bit. She may be Armenian by blood…but this isn’t Armenia. She was born American, and should live like an American.

In America she should be able to stay the night at a friends house, go to a party, or a concert once in a while. She should be able to go on a date for once in her life that wasn’t monitored by her parents. I feel as though any 19 year old girl (no matter what nationallity) would have done the same thing in her position.

We had a relatively silent drive to San Diego. It may have had something to do with the fact that it was the middle of summer and it was hotter than Hell's kitchen. All of our windows were rolled down, so we couldn’t hear each other talk even if we tried. It had been a few hours since the damage had been done.

Both Savannah and I were sober, but wanted to take advantage of her new found freedom, so I asked Kate if we could drive to Mexico for the day. “Sure” she said. “I just need to stop by my condo and make a few phone calls”. “I have a pool that you two lovebirds can go take a dip in”. This was music to my ears. For one I got to see Savannah’s beautiful body in a bathing suit and also, it was 115 degrees outside, and I was convinced that my ball sack was melting onto Kate's black pleather car seat.

Kate had gotten done calling her boyfriend or whatever, and the three of us all piled back into her car and headed to Mexico. Again this was back in 1999. Customs and border patrol were like fluffy little bunny rabbits compared to what they are now. You didn’t even need a passport or an enhanced drivers license to get in. They still had 25 Mexicans with machine guns standing on the entrance gate, but we drove right through without a problem.

Kate was taking us to a Town called Rosarito. It felt like we had just barely gotten into Mexico and we were already there, if you look at a map it looks like it would be about an hour drive south of Tijuana.

Tijuana, was way worse than I was expecting. Most of the buildings there are torn apart and reduced to some re-bar and cement. It looked almost post-apocalyptic: Like something you might see in a Terminator movie. There were small Mexican children walking up to strangers everywhere you look. They appeared to be selling something to the tourists. I couldn’t quite figure it out so I asked Kate.

Kate:“Oh, those are the Chiclet kids”.

D: They are selling Chiclets?

Kate: Ya, they buy them in bulk for about a dollar and then run around the streets selling little packs of them…sometimes tourists will give them 20 bucks, just because they feel sorry for them.

D: 20 dollars a second sounds like a comfortable living..

When we got to Rosarito we were all hungry so we went to a restaurant that Kate recommended. It smelled like a Mexican restaurant from my home town….but better.

The first thing I noticed when we walked in to the restaurant was the large chicken wire fence enclosure in the middle of the restaurant. It was probably as big around as a Buick and went from the floor to the ceiling. Inside the enclosure were birds. Quail, ducks, and some other bird I didn’t recognize that resembled a pheasant. I asked Kate if they were for decoration…like a dumb ass. Kate looked at me like I had squid crawling out of my ears. and responded “No, you pick out the bird you want: just like they do with lobster at "Red Lobster”. I was baffled!!! I think I just had taquitos or a taco or something instead.

We went to a couple of bars and had some tequila and a couple of buckets of Mexican beer called “Sol”. Kate showed us how to do body shots and take the lime from each others mouths after the shot. It was great!!

She led us downtown to the Liquor store, which was conveniently located right next door to the pharmacia…(where you don’t need a prescription for drugs). Savannah and I went into the liquor store to get some cheap Tequila for me to bring back to the states. There was a well dressed Mexican guy talking to Savannah behind me. He was the first Mexican I had seen wearing a suit since we got there. He introduced himself in Spanish, and I responded with the small amount of Spanish I learned in high school…he chuckled a little bit and said “Its o.k. man I speak English too”. He said his name is Jose and he looked down at the 2 gallon jug of tequila I grabbed off of the bottom shelf. He chuckled again.

Jose: “Is this your first time to mexico?”

Hef: ya, how could you tell?

Jose: not even the locals drink that nasty tequila.

Hef: what should I get?

Jose: Ill show you.

Jose Brought Savannah and I back to the tequila section and grabbed a bottle off of the top shelf. He handed it to me and said “This is excellent tequila”. I asked him the price, and he said it is $75 American. I promptly motioned to put it back on the shelf and he stopped me. “Let this be a gift from me to you and your beautiful lady”. I have never been able to..... and still to this day, cant refuse free booze, so of course I didn't decline the offer. I took the bottle from Jose, and the jug that I had in my other hand up to the counter. We both thanked Jose, and tried to keep the conversation short because as a rule “if someone gives you something they usually want something in return” so we high tailed out of there to the pharmacia next door where Kate was just on her way to the checkout counter with a couple bottles of Soma pills.

I gladly offered to pay for the soma pills and gave Kate my credit card, while Savannah and I went back outside to do a little bit of street vendor shopping. My mom really likes topaz and there was a giant heart shaped topaz for something like 20 bucks so I got that and a pair of Oakley sunglasses for 10 bucks. Kate came back out of the Pharmacia and explained that the Oakleys were fake and the topaz may be too. I didn’t really care that much, I just wanted a souvenir. We each took two of the Soma pills and washed it down with a couple mouthfuls of the awful tequila that I just bought and headed down to the beach.

Kate was really into horses. She spent most of high school on an equestrian team. So when we got to the beach to find a small group of horses being led by a chubby old Mexican guy, Kate wanted to follow. Her Spanish was much better than mine so she did the negotiating. She said you can ride one for the day for 10 dollars or you can buy one for 50 American dollars. Seriously? You can buy a horse for 50 bucks in Mexico?.....Yes, but how are you going to get it back home?

The soma pills and tequila were starting to make my brain swim and I started to obsess over buying a horse for 50 bucks. We brainstormed ways to smuggle these horses back to Bainbridge Island where we knew that between the two of us we could easily find room for all of the horses that this dude had. We never did come to a conclusion. We just picked up and left back to San Diego.

We got back to Kate’s condo…and that is when it all hit the fan. There were 3 Black suburbans with Exempt California license plates and tinted windows waiting for us in the parking lot. Everybody knows these types of vehicles. They are the vehicles of special services…The FBI, the CIA and some other military branches. The rear driver’s side door opened from the closest one to us and a very muscular and very large handsome olive skinned man jumped out, looking straight at us. He walked quickly towards us with a military (almost robotic) stride. Savanna whispered “Oh, shit that’s my brother.”

My heart started pounding. This guy must be 6’5” 250 lbs and built like a WWF Wrestler. I wouldn’t stand a chance. He got right in my face, and I was petrified. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t talk, all I could do was listen to him shout at me, and try not to shit my pants.

As it turns out, Sevak is a drill sergeant in the marine corps. His job is to belittle people and make them intimidated...and intimidated I was. I felt a shart coming on I was so scared.

Sevak: If I had a gun right now, I would shoot you right here in front of everyone. Instead I’m going to give you two options. You can either leave Savannah and never talk to her again, or I will kill you with my bare hands.

I weighed my options.... but ended up choosing option A. I kissed Savannah for the last time. I saw her parents getting out of the back of the second Suburban and start walking towards us. Sevak’s eyes were still burning into my forehead. Savannah slowly walked towards her parents and Sevak turned around behind her and followed. That was the last time I ever saw or heard from Savannah.

So I suppose you might be wondering how the FBI got involved. So as I mentioned before….Sevak is a major in the marine corps. When their parents explained to Sevak that some dude took Savannah after he deflowered her and pumped her full of drugs…he took that a little too literally. Granted I did do those things, but she was perfectly willing to do it. She just failed to mention to her parents that she was going to be coming to San Diego with me. Sevak called some of his military friends and they did a forensic analysis at their parent's house to find out who I was and how to find me. They tracked my mom down through their telephone bill.

They got a hold of my mom. My Mom told them that I was staying with Kate and gave them Kate’s moms number who gave them Kate’s address in San Diego. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if Sevak didn’t call the FBI. Once the FBI got involved and because of the “fresh off the boat” Armenian parents broken translation (that made me sound like a cross between Jeffrey Dahmer and Timothy Leary). They tracked me down through my Creditt card transactions in Mexico…which just so happened to be: the liquor store, and the pharmacy.

Since I had taken Savannah out of the country they were able to wave the 72 hour “missing persons” waiting time and when Sevak saw that I was getting alcohol and drugs in Mexico he immediately assumed that my intentions were less than admirable.

Sevak got the whole family involved and asked the family all of the necessary questions on the way down to San Diego from L.A. When they came and picked Savannah up and saw that we were holding hands and and kissing: the fact that she went willingly smoothed everything over so no arrests were made.

However….

I did deflower an Armenian princess, and caused her to be the first in her family (throughout hundreds of years worth of generations) to become impure. I did pump her full of drugs and booze and although she did it willingly I was still the supplier ...and therefor the bad guy.

I did have an Armenian family with military background track me down with the intention to kill me.

I now have a profile with the FBI, 2 bottles of Soma pills...(minus 6 pills). I primo jug of awesome tequila . A 2 gallon jug of the nastiest tequila ever made... and a broken heart…

…and that was one really bad date.

HOWEVER.......

I had a few days left before my unfortunate departure date from southern California, that I had planned to spend it with Savannah. She and I had a great time, and I would like to think that we fell in love along the way. I have no control over what her parents have planned for her life, but I am pretty sure that Savannah had chewed through her parent's thick parental leash using a treasure chest of diabolical schemes and hopefully got every last bit of debauchery that she had been saving up for 19 years out of her system in a day.  I had been saving up a pretty healthy amount of debauchery myself, and being diabolical comes natural. I had a few hundred bucks in my pocket, a jug of tequila and Kate had hooked me up with the city's most notorious "Party Guy" Jason.....it was time to bust out of my innocent catholic boy cocoon and....

PARTY....

MY.....

MOTHER....

FUCKING....

BALLS OFF!!!!!!!

The night ended with copious amounts of free booze, copious amounts of free cocaine and an endless sea of foreign undergrads.....that happened to love free booze and free cocaine.

Although it was one really bad date....im pretty sure the hangover was worse than the heartbreak.

-D'Archangel