This past Friday night I posted on my Facebook page that I needed a drink. Normally I wouldn’t get a quick response from anyone. This night was different, I received a text from a childhood friend who asked if I wanted to go to a festival out-of-town.
I agreed. She told me to bring my camera. When I arrived at her home she offered me a glass of wine. She recently bought two VIP tickets to see “The Struts” in concert. She asked if I was interested in going. FUCK, really?! I’m terrified to fly alone, she already purchased her ticket. The reason she wants me to go is because she said “I know you take some awesome fucking pictures and who else loves glam rock as much as I do?!”
I do like the band. They’re British! lol and I do like glam rock.
I drove to the little town, we stopped at a little bar & ordered drinks. She drinks. Drinks a lot. A lot more than I do. My limit is 8 – 9 drinks. She ordered a vodka/cranberry. I ordered a wine spritzer which Pete the bartender was the idea of a perfect bartender. Super friendly. Accommodating.
We walked to the festival, more drinks. I hate beer. And most of the time these festivals only have beer, I ended drinking “Straw-ber-rita” by Bud. One. Two and then half of one of my friends. I don’t drink them slow either. She knows so many people who are in the local music community. I need something to help me come out of my shell. My self-esteem has hit a low, due to the weight I’ve recently gained. Now in my head I think “starting tomorrow I’m gonna hit the exercise trail!! TOMORROW!!!”
I ask myself “how bad do you want this?!” That’s my motivation. I need it. Gotta do it. FUCK.
Drinking alcohol doesn’t help I know. We left the festival and walked back to the bar. I had another wine sprizter which I ended up knocking half of it over because I it the glass with my elbow when I turned around to talk to someone. I realized at that moment that I had a brief second long blackout. I really have no idea how I spilled the drink. How does anyone spill a drink on the bar? I didn’t feel it on my arm or elbow. My girlfriend is about two drinks ahead of me, I can tell she’s buzzed. I know I felt that euphoric feeling, the one you get before you start slurring your words when you talk.
We went back into the city, where she ended up going home and I stopped off at “the hole.” I miss Charlie, yeah I said this before. Another friend was there, she has a huge crush on Charlie and always hoping he’ll be there. But I’m not telling her that he’s never coming back. My jealous comes out when I hear her using first names with his x-crew. It really bothers me, not sure why. Maybe it’s because I want a place that’s mine, suddenly she comes along wanting to take a spot here. Anyway, I order a Barefoot sprizter. Talk to a few guys there. She introduces me to one of her friends, I’ve never met him before but the name rings loud. Charlie had gotten into a fight with him, knocked him out cold with one punch. Then the boys from the other crew came in looking for a chance to get even for the embarrassment. One of many reasons why Charlie is 86’ed from the bar.
“We’re all going up to Bruce’s place before they close for one drink.” I had no plans on going. Some how I ended up drinking 3 other people besides myself there. He ended up buying me another drink and a shot. I could start to feel the alcohol swirling up at the top of my throat, but soon settled. Then I felt my stomach flare up, my ulcer must be screaming at me to stop, but at this point I’m deaf from the loud music from the night.
He wanted to give me a ride on his motorcycle, but I just met him and even though it’s just down the street a lot can happen just a few blocks from home. I said “Thanks, but no.” He kept trying to get me to ride with him. I thought if Charlie was here, I wouldn’t even have been in this position. There would have been a fight, but I would be with Charlie having fun, not alone. Sure, hubby is home waiting, but he’s not one for all this drama & craziness. It’s one thing for me play in the playground of drunkenness but it’s another for him to do it.
Back to my home turf, it’s almost closing time. Another drink and another shot later we are getting kicked out of the bar. Even though we know the owner, he’s wanting to get out quick. I was so hungry, this guy wanted me to follow him to his sister’s house so we could all party. He kept asking me what I was going to do after this. SHIT. I’m going home and going to bed, fucker!
I drove across town to my favorite fast drunk comfort food joint is and ordered my usual. Chowed on the super fresh hot fires while driving home. Ate half the sandwich and leaned back on the sofa, passed out at some point. Put the food away, went back to the sofa and slept there. I have never been too lazy to walk up the stairs to go to bed to sleep, but this time I was. I heard him walk down the stairs early, I walked up the stairs to pass out again. Woke up around 1pm. Really?! shit, the guilt is the first emotion I feel. He could care less, as long as I had fun & no problems. I ate some more, felt slightly sick, couldn’t stop sweating. I didn’t toss my cookies, but damn. I wet a washcloth, placed it on my head, passed out for another more couple hours. I think that I had not eaten, I started working again and haven’t been sleeping well had something to do with all that.
In the back of my mind I thought “no more,” however I know that’s not gonna happen. I wont need to go out again for a while, give it a couple of weeks.