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Welcome to R slash Today I FFed Up, where O.P accidentally gets herself kidnapped.

Today I effed up by yelling at my kidnapper. It was a beautiful summer night and my husband

and I were at a rave in Brooklyn. We'd been imbibing freely and having the time of our lives. In fact,

we had just taken our last dose when for seemingly no reason at all, the music stopped.

Thinking it must be a temporary interruption, I look down at my phone to discover

that it is, in fact, 6.30 a.m. and the rave has ended. We've made a terrible mistake. I look at my

husband. He's clearly high as a kite. I realize I'm now responsible for both of us. Now,

in this moment, a lesser person might feel fear, but me,

I'm ready for a challenge. I feel strangely really good and ready to tackle this situation.

I can get his home, no problem. Drugs, I'm a capable adult. I grab my husband, who's now

completely out of it, and drag him outside to be greeted by the harsh morning sun and people not super high going on about their lives.

I turned to my husband and realize he's somehow shirtless. We've left the club with no way back in. But don't worry, I'm here and I'm totally sober and capable. I can solve this

problem. I have ridiculous zip-off J-NCO jeans and a rave fan. It's my time to shine. I zip off the

bottoms of my pants and fashion sleeves out of them. Then I use the rave fan, connected with my chains, as an elegant neckline for

my crafted top. I stand back and there's my husband, dressed like a homeless geisha, nonverbal,

yet nipples covered. Success! We're now ready to call the Uber. After waiting for what feels like

hours, I notice a car on the side of the road.

Silly me, the Uber was there the whole time. I tell my husband to wait in his pretty smock on the road.

I approach the car and pull the handle. It's locked. Hmm. I try the front handle. Also locked.

...