Being TDF

No, I did not get my acronym wrong. It is meant to say TDF not DTF, you perv.

Recently, I got to experience something that I don’t often experience. I was TDF, or “the designated friend.”

Since we don’t have cars abroad, none of us really ever need to be a designated driver, but every once in a while, someone will take a turn being sober for the night out.

I have to say, while I wouldn’t want to do it all of the time, it was hilarious. I felt like I was the mom and Brix was my little duckling following behind on the trip home.

The only problem with my little duck, all she could talk about is how much she wanted gelato.

Gelato this, gelato that!

“Maz please! I’m so hungry!”

Brix. it’s 3 AM. The gelato is all gone for the night.

“Nooooo. I want gelato! Please!”

It’s closed.

“It’s not closed! I see the light!”

No. It was definitely closed. Like done for the night, sold out. Hasta la pasta gelato, the owners were already in bed sleeping for the night.

“Please! I know it’s in there! I just want gelato so bad!”

I couldn’t tell her to shut up or that she was being really annoying any more than I did.

And every time I told her to be quiet because the people in the houses around us were sleeping or that there was no gelato right now; she would just complain even more and even louder.

Needless to say, my little duck fell asleep almost the second she hit the couch in my AirBnB apartment. She didn’t want to take off her makeup or wash her face, but like all good moms, for her own good, I got her up, walked her back to her apartment and made sure that she got it together before our train at 8.30 AM the next day.

Also needless to say, my grown-up best friend child has just given me yet another reason why I am not ready for an actual child-child that cries and complains without the off switch of a drunk pass out.

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