Hi! I've been working on this story for a while now, and I don't know if I want to post all of it, because it's pretty rough, to say the least, but I thought I might as well, just to see what people thought. I love this movie, and I love the story of the actual event. I tried to keep as much fact laced into this as I possibly could, so at times it'll probably be a little sketchy fact-wise. Enjoy!
EDIT DECEMBER, 2011: Hey again. I hope everyone had a good Christmas. I'm bored, and it's the holidays, so I'm gonna do a bit of editing on these chapters. I spent a few days re-reading some of it, and Jesus. The three (long as hell) years it took me to write this made a pretty big difference in my writing. So yeah. I'll be kicking around a bit for a while. I might also add in a few new chapters if I'm feeling ambitious.
Colorado Springs, Colorado, 1979.
I hated beer. It was something that I could never get into the habit of drinking, no matter how much I ever drank it. Somehow, though, I found myself standing with a glass of it clutched in my hand. I looked down at it and sighed deeply. A drunk guy had handed it to me a few moments earlier with a slurred, "I bought this for you, babe, enjoy!" and then he disappeared into thin air. I couldn't even give it back to him. I held my breath and took a gulp. Gross. Gross as hell.
"Can I buy you something else?" a voice said behind me. I turned. The voice belonged to a friendly-looking guy. He was smiling at me in a harmless sort of way.
"Come on, now. Don't be difficult. It looks like you're not really enjoying that. C'mon, just let me pay for you to have a drink that you actually like."
I continued to give him a look of deep skepticism. "Did you want it?"
"Maybe," he said, laughing, "But it's a little rude to just walk up to someone and ask if you can have their drink."
I nodded slowly and thrust the beer him. He took it gingerly and toasted me with a grin on his face before taking a deep drink. "I guess it's my lucky day that you're not a fan of beer. How much do I owe you?"
"Nothing," I told him. "It was a gift."
He looked confused. "A gift? Are you here with someone?"
"Nope. Some guy just gave it to me out of the goodness of his heart," I replied.
"Is that so? Point him out to me."
I scanned the bar, searching for the mess who had handed me the beer. I spotted him sitting with another group of guys who looked in much better shape than he did. "Right over there," I said, nodding in the direction of the table.
"You're serious? That one in the middle, there?"
I nodded. "Yep."
He laughed loudly. "No way! That's one of my buddies! That's Pav! Come on, come over and meet him!"
I felt absolutely mortified as the guy dragged me over to the table, where all the guys sitting there were watching us come over. The drunken guy, Pav, looked up and grinned at me.
"Need another cold one, sweetheart?"
"You misjudged her, Pav. She's not a fan of beer," the guy informed him.
"No shit, Bah? She doesn't like beer? What's your name, baby?" He got to his feet and threw an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to his chest. He smelled vaguely of whiskey and sweat.
I was uncomfortably aware of everyone at the table looking at me. "Victoria," I told him.
"Vic, huh? Well, how old are you, Vic?"
"I'm twenty-one," I said nervously.
"Hey—how about that, me too! What do you think of hockey players, honey?" Pav was breathing a steady stream of alcohol breath into my face.
Trying to lean away from him, I answered, "What about them?"
"I don't know. Just in general. What do you think of them?"
I shrugged. "Are you a hockey player?"
Pav grinned. "Pride of the United States of America, baby! We're all on the national team. You ever sleep with a famous guy before?"
"Alright, alright." The guy I was originally talking to stood up. "C'mon, Pav. I think it's time that you went back up to your room, buddy, huh?"
Pav slumped against me briefly before turning to the other guy. "Okay, Bah, I don't have time for your nonsense tonight. I'm not in the mood to take your shit on this night, Bah. I'm sorry. But it's the truth, man. I love you, but it's how I'm feeling right now."
The other guy, presumably named Bah, laughed. "Okay, buddy. Sorry about that. I guess I'll have to go tell that girl who wanted to meet you up in the room to head home, huh?"
"There's a girl in the room. No shit?"
"No shit, Pav. Get up there, tiger."
Immediately, Pav's arms dropped from my shoulders and he turned and walked out of the bar. Bah grinned after him. "Easier than I thought. Sorry about him, Vic."
I grinned at him. "Thanks."
"Bah, I swear to God, if you were serious, I think I want to become better friends with you," another guy said with a grin.
Bah looked amused. "Do you honestly think that I'd do that for someone else? Besides, Pav is in no shape to be accommodating for any ladies tonight. By the time he gets up to his room, he'll be ready to pass out, believe me. He's a lightweight." All the guys at the table laughed.
Another guy walked up, carrying two more pitchers of beer. "Alright, boys. I'm expecting you to pay me back for these—" He paused, looking over at me. "Victoria?"
I was confused. This guy looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place his face. "Hey," I said awkwardly. "How's it going?"
He grinned at me. "You don't know who I am, do you?" I shook my head, embarrassed. "Rob Maclanahan?"
"Oh yeah," I said, remembering. Rob Maclanahan was the kind of guy who I routinely saw at parties or bars, had never spoken to, but we knew each other by name. All I knew about him was that he played hockey and that his family had a lot of money. "How are you? Congratulations on making the team—that's great for you."
Rob grinned. "Thanks. Yeah, it's pretty great. What're you doing here in Colorado?"
"I'm supposed to be visiting my friend," I told him. "Do you know Terry Miller?"
He thought for a minute, and then nodded. "Sort of. I've seen her around a few times. She's kind of crazy, right?"
I laughed. "Yeah, kind of. I'm guessing that she's out somewhere else tonight. I called her earlier and left her a message saying I'd be here but somehow I haven't seen her once." I shrugged.
"Shitty," Rob said. "So you're just going back to Minneapolis afterwards?"
"Yep, the day after tomorrow. Whether or not I see Terry, I guess."
The guy sitting nearest me grabbed my arm and yanked me down into an empty chair beside him at the table. "Well, until then, you can party with us, huh? What do you think, boys?"
A few of the guys made noises of approval. Rob sat down beside me. "Victoria..." he began, and he was immediately cut off.
"Call her Vic, Mac, Jesus Christ!"
Rob looked surprised. "I didn't know you liked to be called that, Vic, sorry." I didn't, but I felt like it was too late to say anything. "Anyway, Vic, let me introduce you to the boys. You already know Bah, I guess." He pointed to the guy beside him. "You should maybe recognise a few of these guys. They go to the U. See, here," he pointed at a burly looking guy that I didn't recognise, "this is Phil Verchota." He looked at me as if to ask if I knew Phil. "No? Okay... well, how about Strobel? Eric Strobel? Or Buzz Schneider?" I didn't recognise Eric or Buzz either. Rob shook his head. "Don't you get out to any hockey games?"
I laughed and shook my head. "No, not really."
All of them looked at me in disbelief. "We'll address that later," Rob said slowly. "Okay, so what about Janny? Steve Janaszak?"
I shook my head once again, feeling stupid.
Rob said, "Well, I guess we're out of luck introducing you to people you recognise... So here's Dave Christian, he goes to school in North Dakota, and Mark Johnson, from Wisconsin." I smiled at each of them in turn.
"So, now that you're all introduced, what can we get you to drink?" Buzz asked, putting an arm around my shoulders.
I shook my head. "I'm good. I have to drive back to my hotel tonight, so I shouldn't be doing any more drinking."
"Hey—come on. You got stood up by your own friend. We're getting you something to drink." Rob got up. "Have some of our beer while I go get some shots for us, alright?" He walked towards the bar.
"You think he knows you don't like beer?" Bah asked, grinning across the table at me.
"I still can't drink. I have to drive later," I grumbled, realizing that I was being a bit of a buzz-kill.
One of the other guys, Mark Johnson, leaned in. "Look, I'm designated driving tonight. I could probably give you a lift back to your hotel if you wanted."
"See? There you go. Now you're free to do whatever you want."
I thought about it. There was always the chance that these boys were just trying to get an easy lay out of me, but something told me that it would be fine. They seemed harmless enough, and I was smart enough to keep my wits about me, even when I was drinking, so when Rob came back, I started going shot for shot with Phil Verchota... and basically, the night went downhill from there.
The next thing I knew, I was in the reclined passenger seat of a car. My car. I sucked in a deep breath, and looked around. Mark Johnson was driving, a peaceful smile on his face.
"Wha—?" I tried to sit up straighter, but when I did, the car started to spin slightly and I leaned back.
"Hey—you woke up. I was hoping we wouldn't have to carry you back into the hotel. How are you feeling? Still out of it?"
"Oh, me and Janny. He's following us in my car so I can drive back to my hotel. How are you feeling?" he asked again.
"I'm fine. Where're we going? Your hotel?" I could hear my speech slurring.
Mark looked over at me. "No, we're going to your hotel, to drop you off. Are you alright? Would you need to stay at my room? If you felt like you needed help I guess I could do that."
I started to say something, but my eyelids started to feel heavy and I leaned my head against the window, fading out of consciousness for the second time.
When I came to again, I was being carried in a very awkward way, with my neck bent backwards over someone's arm and my arms and one of my legs dangling.
"Jesus, Janny, carry her right. Have you ever held a baby?"
"The extra hundred pounds or so makes her not a baby, Johnson."
"I'm not... fat."
"Whoa, was that her? Is she awake?"
They were silent for a minute, waiting for me to say something else. When I didn't, Mark said, "Just toss her on the bed, Janny."
I was literally tossed onto a bed, my head bouncing off of the headboard.
"What, you said to—"
"Have you ever taken care of a drunk person before? She could throw up all over herself!"
"Well, what do you suggest I do?"
"Put her the right way on the bed, under the blankets."
Janny sighed heavily. "Fine. Pick her up."
I felt myself being lifted off the bed again. There was a rustling sound, and then I was set down again and covered with a stiff blanket. "Roll her on her side, Janny," Mark said.
"If she throws up and she's on her back, she'll choke. Just roll her over."
"Well, who says she's going to throw up?"
"Just listen. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can go."
I was rolled over onto my side. "What, you aren't coming back to the hotel?"
"No, I think I should probably stay here and watch out for her. She's in pretty rough condition."
"Johnson, we don't even know this girl!"
"Ah, that doesn't matter. You can leave if you want. Take my car," I heard the jingling of keys, "and just come back for me tomorrow."
"Alright. I guess I'll see ya, Johnson."
He moved around in the room for a few minutes, placing something beside the bed and then the room went silent.
When I came to again after what seemed like two or three minutes, the first thing I noticed was how bright it was. "Oh, my God. Turn the lights off." I grumbled, covering my head with a pillow.
"Sorry," a voice directly beside me said, "the sky does that during the day."
I pushed myself up, looking around. Mark Johnson was sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him. "Did you sleep there?" I asked him.
He shrugged. "Sort of. I would have gone up on the bed, but I didn't want to get hit with puke, or for you to think I was trying something." He smiled in a tired sort of way.
I noticed for the first time, a garbage can sitting in front of Mark. "Oh, wow. I'm so sorry. I can't believe you stayed here."
"Don't worry about it. You were actually pretty funny." He grinned.
I clapped a hand to my head. "What did I say to you?"
He thought for a moment, running and hand through his hair, and then smiled. "Well, around five, you rolled over and said that we should get married, because our last names are so similar that you wouldn't have to worry about it being too different."
"Jesus," I said. "My last name is Sommers. And yours is Johnson. Oh noooo."
Mark grinned again. "Yeah, I didn't think it made too much sense either."
I was mortified. My only consolation was that I probably would never see Mark Johnson again.