My friends, the disaster magnets

Ihave a unique blend of friends, and there seems to be an unusually large percentage of them that are disaster magnets.

You know, the kind of people you meet for coffee and wake up having to ask the locals, “Where exactly am I?” I don’t know why I attract these high drama folks (because I’m not like that at all), but rest assured, I know to be prepared when we’re going to rendezvous.

For example, if my pal Edgar is coming to town, I know to sleep a few extra hours a night for about a month in an attempt to boost my immune system. I update my passport, get a few quick immunizations, and send a note to family reminding them about my preferences for organ donation. I know once I pack a snake venom kit and add the names of a few facial plastic surgeons, as well as a 24-hour mechanic, into my contacts, I’m good to go.

I remember the time we ended up swimming in a public fountain after too many Blue Hawaiians and someone called the police. They didn’t see as much humor in it as we did. Another event involved Edgar breaking his toe while we were skinny dipping. Not to be confused with the night where I got the wind knocked out of me after I fell over a hostess stand at a restaurant. All events were totally his fault.

Edgar’s sordid history is a plethora of car repairs and hospital visits. He has had to replace engines on cars he borrowed, install new toilet tanks he fell into and broke, and once locked himself in the plane’s overhead compartment. I believe that particular event is now part of a certain airline’s employee training manual.

Jean is also a close friend/disaster magnet. She’s the most exquisitely groomed person you would ever want to meet. Of course, the fact that she went to an amusement park dressed in a linen suit made perfect sense to me. She was excited to take her niece on the giant floating tire ride — basically bumper cars on water.

As Jean was getting helped out of the ride in her everyday couture, she fell in. The water was a mix of effluent (for those of you who don’t know, that means gray water) and decades of spilled motor oil. Standing 4-feet deep in black sludge, she started laughing so hard that neither the park attendants nor her husband could hoist her out of the drink. She had on a full body girdle and was basically mummified. Her niece left the park immediately to avoid the inevitable social banishment that was sure to come after word got around.

And who didn’t love the time Jean was picking up a catering order for a dinner party she was throwing. The caterer’s shop was closed but for some reason, they had left the door unlocked. She went in to get her platter of curried chicken salad and set off the silent alarm. Law enforcement was close behind, while I was at her home entertaining her guests and mixing drinks for the hungry crowd.

Then there was the holiday party where she hired a local Santa. He ended up stealing from her and passing out on the front lawn after over-egg-nogging. Another thing I love about Jean was if we were out having a cocktail, and I left to use the restroom, she would send a drink to a guy and tell them I was interested in them. Thanks to her, I spent an entire evening with a guy wearing black, fringed gloves and answering to the name, Gemini.

What started as dinner with my pal Larry resulted in an evening spent in the ER. A night with Gina meant days of recovery after dancing and singing so hard at a concert that I had bruises and lar-yngitis. Brad helped wrap my tail when I dressed up as a mermaid and was helpful chatting with the police when they arrived. Anyone starting to see a pattern here?

I know that I will never achieve any great success in politics or pass the FBI entry exam and my name may pop up on a No-Fly list because of these same folks. These are my friends. These are the people I surround myself with so I look more normal. One could almost call me “a positive influence” when these folks are around. They have photos and dirt on me that they would sell in the blink of an eye. I guess that’s why I call them friends. I’m afraid what would happen if I didn’t. 