How a Dominos delivery man became my taxi driver

Like many good college stories, it all started after a very successful night of alcohol consumption and almost ended with my friend and me freezing to death.

I made the dean’s list last spring, so I’m not just some day drinker with no sense of academic responsibility. This day of drinking was a special occasion since I had just done very well on a couple of papers and a few exams and thought a night out was well deserved. My friends and I decided that since we didn’t want to spend a lot of money, so we went to a frat house.

The party was awesome. Tons of girls and tons of drinks – what else could you ask for? Because it’s almost impossible to keep track of where your friends are at a party, most of us ended up splitting up.

Near the end it was just my friend Matt and I. Things were dying down and we decided that we’d done enough damage for one day. We were hungry so we thought of a brilliant idea – order Dominos before we left so that by the time we got home it would meet us at the door. Little did we know that this would be the smartest thing we’ve probably ever done in our time in college.

We left the party and were met with one of the coldest winters Buffalo has ever seen. I was trailing behind Matt, as I placed my trust in him to get us to the bus so that we could get back to North Campus – this was mistake No. 1.

Matt led us further and further away from the bus stop. We’d already probably walked 10 minutes and then frantically sprinted five more minutes in the opposite direction of where we would have any chance of actually catching a bus.

We found ourselves in front of a firehouse somewhere down Bailey Avenue. Once we realized we screwed up we both took out our phones to call cabs. The soonest one said they would arrive in an hour. We weren’t surprised – that’s Buffalo cabs for you.

At first we were going to wait but after 10 minutes we realized we’d been outside in the snow wearing T-shirts for about half an hour. Our fingers were starting to lose feeling andsnotcicles were forming under our noses.

Instead of waiting for frostbite to set in we decided it would be a good idea to run all the way back to the frat house we were at because it was the last place we could remember feeling our faces. We sprint back but realize we can’t remember which house it is.

At this point we were desperate for any warmth we could get, so we took a risk.

We walked into a the foyer of a random house and stood there to try and warm up.

After five minutes of pretending that we were actually getting warmer, I get a phone call. It was our Dominos delivery driver and our order had arrived at Sweethome apartments where I was living at the time.

I was silent on the phone for a second until my brain warmed up enough to get an actual idea.

“Hey, so we’re actually on South Campus. Could you please pick us up and take us back to Sweethome, we’ll literally give you all the money in our pockets – about $40.”

The driver laughed and thought for a second, then agreed.

I gave him the house number of the foyer that we had commandeered.

Without fail, 15 minutes later the Dominos driver pulls up to the house and Matt and I race to the car.

We were almost delirious from the cold. The moment the heat from the car touched my skin I felt hopeful for the first time that night. The driver, a young college student whose name we couldn’t remember the next day, told us we were lucky that the apartment was his last stop.

We said thank you more than 100 times. We couldn’t say it enough. The heat from the pizza on my lap transferred to my body.

We pulled into Sweethome and the driver stopped right in front of building seven. We thanked him again and both pulled out our money to give it to the man who saved our lives. We raced upstairs and devoured the pizza within minutes.

If I learned anything that night it was to never follow Matt anywhere and always tip my Dominos delivery driver.

Tomas Olivier is the features editor and can be reached at