“Yeah my day was pretty chill. I surfed, I skated, surfed again. It was chill. Tomorrow should be pretty chill. How was your day? Was it chill?”

I couldn’t help but wince at the Matthew McConaughey lookalikes overuse of the word “chill”, as he fumbled his way through the first 10 minutes of his date in the back of my car. He was such a nice guy and I hope he managed to pull it together. I dropped the awkward two at the Coogee Pavilion and headed South.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Vicky – 6 minutes – Maroubra

I was cranking a song by Australian artist Allday called “Give it to me Right Now” as I cruised down Arden St. Who knew the lyrics in the song which read, “six girls in a four door riding round town yelling obscenities, crazy ass bit#!es,” would be an omen for things to come.

I pulled into the street Vicky had entered into the app.  All hell was breaking loose. Close to two hundred people were piling out of a house party which had just been shut down by the police. I used to love house parties like this when I was a bit younger, but I also instinctively knew that two hundred boozed up teenagers forced out onto the street is a recipe for disaster. “SMASH!!!” There goes the first bottle crashing into the bitumen, causing me to jump. I reached forward to my phone to cancel the job, do a U-Turn and get the hell out of there, when a girl walking by suddenly hurled herself onto the bonnet of my car.

“STOPPPPPPPPP!” She screamed as she pointed her finger at me. “Felicity, Lauren, Pandora! Our Uber is here!” She bellowed into the crowd of people cascading down the driveway like a swarm of drunken bees.

Three heavily intoxicated girls, holding their high heels in their hands above their heads, emerged from the raucous crowd and began stumbling and swaying toward my car on their tip-toes. “Tonight is the night I get spewed on,” I thought to myself as I breathed a deep sigh and hesitantly unlocked my doors.

All four tumbled into my car. For the next two punishing minutes my ears were peppered with a cacophony of high pitched whistling, woo-hoos and OMGs, as I attempted to navigate my way through the lawless streets of Maroubra. The horde of cackling hyenas continued to talk in gibberish to one another about the party. I could make out a sentence here and there, “OMG Did you see Damo hook up with Cara. Vanessa is going to go effing batshit!” said Vicky from the front seat in what sounded like a forced American accent.

I was taking the girls to Home Nightclub in Darling Harbour to meet up with their boyfriends. The next twenty minutes in the car with them were intense. For the first five minutes of our trip I was completely invisible until Vicky turned to me suddenly and yelled, “OMG WHAT SCHOOL DID YOU GO TO!!?” I found this such a bizarre question to randomly ask. It turns out all four girls are in year twelve at one of Sydney’s most prestigious all-girls schools. Vicky was keen to see if I was cut from the same cloth. “KINGS, SCOTS, KNOX, RIVERVIEW!!?” She fired at me aggressively. When I told her the name of the very ordinary high school I attended in Southern Sydney she turned away and flatly said, “never heard of it.”

One of the girls from the backseat suddenly piped up, “OMG I know people from that area.” The next five minutes involved all four girls yelling out the names of random people, none of which I knew. This game ended abruptly when the girl sitting directly behind me said, “OMG he doesn’t know anyone.” Everyone laughed. Everyone except me.

I decided to stir the girls up a little bit. “How are you going to get into Home Nightclub when you’re not 18?” I asked incredulously.

“Ummmmm excuse me! We are actually all 18,” said Vicky in an annoyed tone.

“hahaha Shut the f#!k up Vicky! You’re 19, you repeated third grade you retard!” Said the girl sitting in the middle backseat. Everyone laughed again, me included this time.

“Why the f#!k do you bring that up all the time Pandora? You’re a bit#h!”

The car again erupted into high pitched laughter as the girls in the backseat pointed at Vicky who was now shaking her head furiously. Their laughing fit was cut short as a four-wheeled drive with green P plates pulled alongside us at a set of lights.

“OMFG is that Bryson next to us?” said Pandora as she reached across from the middle seat and lowered the back window.

“BRYSON!” BRYSON!!!!!!” Yelled Pandora to the carload of boys. The boys turned their heads to face us before Pandora screamed, “Bryson!!! Show us ya di#k!!!!” I looked around the car in absolute disbelief. Did she really just yell that out?

“OMG Pandora! His girlfriend will bash you!” screeched Vicky. “Quick! Uber man drive!” Fortunately, the boys turned down a different street and we continued along Anzac Parade.

The girls weren’t done with shocking me yet. They asked their next question through bizarre Chinese whispers, minus the whispering:

Back drivers seat: OMG can he get us pills?

Pandora: Do you reckon he can get us pills?

Rear passengers seat: Vicky can he get us pills?

Vicky: Do you think you could get us pills?

I didn’t even have a chance to answer before they were at it again, this time delivering a statement:

Back drivers seat: All good the boys got us pills!

Pandora: Cancel that, the boys got them.

Rear passengers seat: Vicky, we got them.

Vicky: Yeah don’t worry about it hey! We’re all sorted now

I was surrounded by four Ja’mie’s from Summer Heights Highs. They were worse behaved than Phillippe, the car seat kicking popcorn eating man child, from a few stories back. The girls weren’t done shocking me just yet.  It turns out the boyfriends they were going to meet at the club don’t actually acknowledge the girls as their girlfriends in public.

“Brandon better not hook up with anyone in front of me again,” said Pandora as she applied a bright red lipstick.

“Sorry, aren’t these guys your boyfriends?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“Yeahhh….. but they kind of don’t really speak to us much when we are out,” replied Vicky with a touch of sadness as she lowered her head.

I almost started to feel empathetic toward the group when Pandora revealed, “We’re all dumping them when we go to Europe after exams anyway so whatevs hay!”

With those final words, the girls piled out of my car and off into the night leaving their empty bottles of Sky Blue Vodkas as a souvenir.