Other People's Stories, Part 4 of ?: Gina, you look horrible!

This is, obviously, another Gina story. I think this is why I like Gina, in part, because something about her attracts unusual experiences.

When Gina and I were in college, we were both members of this anti-drinking club that was, strangely, named after the god of wine: Bacchus. I wasn't as much of a drunk in those days, but why I would be a part of this group, why Gina would be a part of this group, or even why the group had such an ironic name; all of this is now mysterious to me, lost in the sands of time. It was something to do, I guess.

The incident I am about to describe may or may not have been a function of Bacchus. It sounds like something they would do, but I'm not sure. Perhaps Gina will clarify the details for us, but the story I remember is this:

Gina volunteered to be a part of a mock accident downtown. They got an actual car that had been wrecked in a drunk driving accident, and then volunteers (Gina included) were made up by professional make-up artists to look like victims of the crash. The victims would then lay around the street and bleed. People who walked by and saw this horrific scene would get literature about the perils of drunk driving. I don't know if Gina had to act out anything, or if she just lay there, or what all happened, but she did go and get herself made up by a professional make-up artist to look as though she had just been run over by a car. She looked like she really, really, really needed to go to the hospital- bad.

She had a good time doing the whole thing. When the mock accident was over, since she didn't drive yet, she began her long walk home, looking like someone who really, really, really needed to go to the hospital- bad.

I don't know if she didn't have the facilities to wash off the make-up there, if it wouldn't come off, if she didn't care- maybe she can clarify all this. Maybe I'm making all this up. The mind does strange things. But, the way I remember it, she said she saw loads of people on the way home, and many of them asked her if she needed help. If she needed to go to the hospital. If she needed a doctor. All the way home. Can you imagine it? Through all those nice little touristy side streets of Durango. Up the front hill. I don't know if she tried to hitch a ride up the front hill or not, but it was a common practice at the time. All the way home, looking like she really, really, really needed to go to the hospital- bad.

This whole story I just related makes her blog entry here even funnier.