Lessons From Being a 5th Wheel

So a couple of weekends ago I took my first trip to New Orleans, Louisiana. Upon my arrival to Bourbon Street the first thought that came into my mind was, “This is like Vegas on acid.” It was only a matter of liquor and time before the good times began to roll and I found myself assaulted by the debauchery of New Orleans. While I could sift through the drunken haze of this weekend’s memories and probably compile some sort of entertaining story/rant, it would be in bullet form without the continuity required of all comprehensive stories. Here’s just a taste:

- Drank beer and threw beads. Saw boobs.
- Watched a “Citizen’s Arrest” against my friend.
- Talked to girl until she spouted the words, “I’m still in high school.”

I think you get what I’m talking about.

With all things considered, the story I’m about to tell involves an experience I had following such a debacherous night. You see I found myself in quite the awkward predicament the following morning. Get this, I found myself on a double-date in the French Quarters playing the role of the dreaded 5th Wheel. Granted, this was never a plan of mine when the weekend started but I really had no choice considering my ride home was on the date.

You see, my ride, a close friend of mine who I will call Sebastian, and I planned to stay in New Orleans the following day in order to watch the AFC Championship game between the New England Patriots and San Diego Chargers. You see, I’m a firm believer that in order to maintain your masculinity you must intake large doses of Sports Center, Fox News, and most importantly of all, Football. Basically these things will prevent me from turning gay. Debauchery and manliness equal a good weekend, right?

So the audible (you like that manly football reference?) on our plans was called after Sebastian and another guy from our group named Sam met two girls the night prior and ended up going home with them. Now I have nothing against random one night hookups – they’re almost as manly as Fox News – but they need to maintain their key characteristics: random and one night. Sam and Sebastian hung out with these girls the entire next morning partaking in brunch, shopping at a local flea market, and mass. Yes, mass. “Are you serious? That’s fucking retarded,” was my exact response as well.

Now it seemed the girls were going to accompany us while we watched the game. Sebastian said he wanted me to hang out with them because they were cool. And by “hang out” he meant “you tag along” and by “cool” he meant, “I hooked up with this girl and you ain’t got none, bitch!”

After we reunited and I latched on as the super cool 5th Wheel, Sebastian did his best to break the ice and incorporate me into a group in which I didn’t belong nor did I want to belong to. Despite my best efforts to scare the girls off with a cold scowl, I was trapped.

“We found the perfect girl for you,” Sebastian told me – great she’s busted – “The girls’ roommate just broke up with her boyfriend.”

Before I had time to reply and make a comment establishing myself as the asshole wet blanket 5th Wheel, one of the girls quickly chimed in, “Oh, she got back with her boyfriend.”

Seeing how I’m a college accredited graduate and a genius at that, I quickly saw through this girl’s comment – she was an undergrad after all. Through the scientific method, historical analysis, and triple integration I translated this young lady’s comment into, “You’re not even close to meeting my roommate’s standards. You are lame, Lamey McLamerson! Go lamely crawl back to your lame hole and wallow in your lameness.” Great, they hate me, I thought. They hate me before I had the chance to act like an asshole. And I hardly even said anything . . .

So, things are bad, right? Well they only got worse for the 5th Wheel of Lame. As we quickly walked through the French Quarters in search of a Sports Bar, we abruptly stopped in a square filled with palm readers. I began to panic. What the hell are we doing here, I thought. The game had just started and I wasn’t soaking in the rays of a flat screen TV radiating a masculine touchdown pass thrown by Tom Brady. Instead I was surrounded by a bunch of mystical witches whose powers infringed upon my Judeo-Christian upbringing. As the shakes set in, I watched in horror as Sebastian, Sam, and the girls approached one of these masters of Voodoo.

“Can we have our palms read?” asked on of the girls.

“Let’s have our Tarot cards read too!” piped in the other one.

No. No! NO! It can’t be. Was I really going to miss the football game so these girls can have their palms read with their one night stands turned soul mates? I had to do something.

I ran up to the palm reader, knocked her table down, and punched the girl who brought the idea up in the face. I then turned to the other girl and kicked her in the vagina. All of a sudden the palm reader pulled out her mini flat screen TV showing the game and we lived happily ever after.

Okay, none of that really happened although I definitely contemplated it all at the time.

Being the passive aggressive 5th Wheel that I was, I stood there and brooded in a concoction of misery, anger, and estrogen. It can’t take too long, I figured. I’ll stand here for 20 minutes and then I’ll be sitting in a warm bar, beer in hand, watching the game.

Twenty minutes later the palm reader was still on the first palm. My God! I just stood there in utter disbelief watching this heretic cast magic spells on the creases of the palm of a girl I did not want to hang out with. Meanwhile the football game was going on and I was not feeding off the masculine nectar emitted from the flat screen. Never had I imagined someone else’s one night stand could have such dire effects on me. It seemed like the palm reader wanted me to suffer as she took her sweet ass time.

Finally the palm reader finished the first girl. Hoping they all had had their fun I prepared to walk to the bar to watch the game. Wrong! The other girl had to have her palm read now. Once again I stood there in utter disbelief as Sebastian and Sam giddily watched another palm reading. At this point I had had enough and I pleaded to Sebastian that we go find a bar immediately. After all, Sebastian is a huge Patriots fan and I figured he would want to ditch the Wicked Witch of the West and go watch the game.

“This is really cool,” Sebastian told me, “We’ll go after this is all done.”

No! The witch had ensnared Sebastian along with the other three and was holding my masculinity hostage. As I stood there watching this feminine assault on my senses, I felt the masculinity drain from my body. All of a sudden I wanted to have my palm read too. This is fucking bull shit I thought, yet as I continued to miss Brady and the Pats duke it out on the football field my inner-man further subsided. Soon I felt the urge to talk about my feelings, watch “Bridget Jones’s Diary,” and simply cuddle with a nice girl. Shit was not good.

I watched a magic show from another master of the dark arts in the middle of all this but it did not provide the manliness I needed. The palm reader had me in her trance and it was quite possible I was going to have my palm read too. Fortunately for my sense of manhood, the happy couples decided to stop after Sam’s Tarot card reading and we finally made our way to a sports bar to watch the game. Unfortunately, my role as the 5th wheel continued to wear me down.

We entered the bar and I immediately noticed the four flat screen TVs displaying the game in high definition. I felt a wave of testosterone rush back into my body. It looked like I would stay straight after all. While I was certainly thrilled to be watching the game and drinking beer, it was already the middle of the second quarter. I had missed a quarter and a half of the AFC Championship game because the lovebirds just couldn’t stop doing cute things together. Regardless, I was watching the game, drinking beer, and trying to zone out the chatter of the two couples. It worked for awhile but I once again felt my unwelcome presence.

When the bill arrived from the bar we all scrounged around to gather the correct change for our portion of the bill. Sebastian and Sam did not have correct change and went to the ATM to get some money. Being a nice southern girl and all, one of the girls decided to reduce the hassle and pay for the bill herself. However, this happened only after I paid up. When I pulled a $10 bill out of my wallet, she snatched it like I just offered her immortality. At that point I felt like an even bigger douche. It was obvious they wanted me gone yet I couldn’t leave – the game wasn’t even half over. Like Han Solo frozen in carbonite, I just sat there with a look of frozen agony on my face. Boba Fett, Jaba the Hutt, the whole galaxy far far away was out to fuck me.

Eventually we left the bar in search of a cooler hipper one where the couples could get close. As we walked through the French Quarters my world seemed to be coming to an end. Being a 5th Wheel for so long made me forsake the very things that made me a man. I no longer wanted to watch the game. I no longer desired shots of manliness. I just wanted to go home, crawl under the covers, and be alone. I had no idea that being a 5th Wheel is just as debilitating to your manhood as getting kicked in the nuts. I thought watching the football game would be an easy fix to what I was feeling but I was dead wrong. Like crystal meth, it was a only temporary fix. I needed a more permanent fix and it appeared that it wasn’t going to happen

I moped into the next bar and quickly ordered a drink. If I was going to be miserable at least I could be drunk and miserable. When all was just about lost I experienced something magical. Something so fantastic it brought me out of my rut and made me forget all about being a 5th Wheel. What saved me you ask? Cougars. Two lovely Cougars who desired a conversation with a man half their age. I managed to strike up a conversation about football with two Cougars on vacation in New Orleans. It was glorious. These Cougars were the Leia to the 5th Wheel encased in carbonite. Talking football with the guys is one thing, but discussing it with Cougars takes it to a whole new level. I immediately felt like a man again and I knew for sure this wasn’t going to be temporary.

And that’s how I discovered the ultimate cure when your manhood is at stake. You see, football can only take you so far. It is the compliment of a lovely 40-something year old Cougar which will sustain your manhood. True manliness comes from hitting on Cougars. I was down in the dumps being a 5th Wheel even after watching some pigskin. But you know, those Cougars really saved the day. So to all those Cougars out there, I salute you. Because you make the world go round and the football spiral, and most importantly of all, you warm the hearts of millions of young men looking for a good time.

You know now that I think about it, the booze also could have helped . . . .