The Expanded Product Of Drunken Thoughts (424 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.5 on 2 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Sarcasticus (View user info) at 2005-08-23 00:15:00 EDT
Part 1: http://www.ubersite.com/m/63356
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As soon as I'm out the door, my feet are moving. I'm burning down the street, 'cause I know some jackass from the restaurant is gonna come after me. I'm still clenching the steak knife in my hand. But I'm flying down the street, darting through crowds - most people part as they see me coming. The night blurs as my legs are impervious to pain and the sides of my eyes close in. Streaks of light and people line the street as I run. Barely managing to stand upright, I focus in on my feet. Going bang bang bang bang on the sidewalk, sending jolts up my body from my feet that fade around my calves.
Now I'm out of breath, and I've gotta be at least 3 blocks away. So I stop running and the world comes screaming back into focus. My chest is being hammered from inside and I'm trying to walk, but I'm too winded, and I rest my hands on my knees. Hunched over in the middle of the street, I'm trying to breathe. My mouth is this awful taste of leftover saliva and ketchup. When I close my eyes, my head nods down. So I snap them open - like trying not to fall asleep in class - and my head shakes a little.
I'm this close to falling asleep right here. I can't move, stuck here, out of breath and nearly comatose. Heaving in and out, my chest wont stop thumping. My whole body is vibrating with each frantic heartbeat. My stomach is gurgling and swirling around. I know I'm going to have to puke in a minute. But first, I'm going to have to move to the side of the street. Maybe try and find a private place to puke.
Because I'm standing in the middle of a downtown street. Hands on my knees, falling asleep, drained of energy...oh shit...oh shit...oh shit...Vomit comes flying up my throat and I don't even move. I just try and aim the puke away from my feet. Not much success there, some of it splatters on my shoes and my pants.
Finished, sweating now, I feel ten times better. But not good enough to move yet. There are tears in my eyes and I squeeze them shut tight. My mouth tastes horrible - like vomit, naturally, which feels like that sandy polish the dentist puts on your teeth. Except that it smells rotten.
I'm standing now. Slowly walking away. Trying to rinse out my mouth with non-existant saliva and spit out the taste. Not good. I spit out a dribbler which lands on my shirt. Fuck. Where's the taxi? And I'm dazed and shuffling around - like a retard out on a librium daytrip - searching for a cab. My legs feel disconnected from my body, and I don't know how I'm able to put one foot in front of the other.
Then I turn onto a pretty hot street. Loaded with people. And I don't want to have to deal with anyone, with my mouth smelling like barf and spit all over my shirt. But I know if there's lots of people, there's gotta be cabs. So I'm braving the crowds, looking down, just tumbling through people. And they're all as drunk as me, so I blend in nicely. I mean, I can't pick up a chick or anything, but no one's hassling me.
Now there's a break in the crowd - like the eye of a storm - and there's a line of cabs up ahead. Finally, holy shit, I've never been more relieved. I've even got a temporary boost of energy, 'cause now I know I'll be home soon. Single-mindedly - is that even a word? Fuck it - I'm a zombie now, just zoomed right in on the first cab in the line. It's maybe 30 feet away, and I know this will take forever, and my stomach doesn't feel so good anymore. There's a fry truck around somewhere, 'cause I can smell hot grease, which makes my stomach turn. Flip over, oh man, not good.
I swallow - fuck, just let me make it home. I start counting my steps - one, two - once I get to 30, I'm home free. Four. This is taking forever, and that energy boost which made me think I was ready for another round is now gone, and all I can think about is my feet. Nine. Flecked with chunks, I watch as the left goes ahead of the right. Ten. Then the right ahead of the left. Eleven.
And now I'm sweating again, racked by nausea. I take a break. Breathing audibly, I shut my eyes and try an focus on standing up. My body shakes with chills as I open my eyes. Fuck, where was I? Like, fifteen or something? Fuck.
One. I have to start counting again. Two. Looking up is total vertigo. But I can make it one step at a time. Just put one foot in front of the other. Five. Almost there. Six. Almost there. Seven...Oh God, I've gotta be close now.
So I look up. I'm achingly close to the cab. Maybe 10 steps to go, I can see the driver's turban. Christ, this is such a big deal. Just get there and get it over with. And I take a lunge forward and the cab gets a tiny bit bigger. Another step, a little bit bigger. And I manage to force some more steps from my stupid drunken body.
Now I'm at the cab. I can touch it - I touch it, I actually use it to steady myself. I Fumble with the handle, ready to fall asleep, eyes already beginning to close. Then I get in and sit down - because I can't flop down, or I wont get a ride - and the seat is the greatest thing I've ever sat in. My body immediately conforms to the seat and I lay my head back, close my eyes and feel the outside spin around me.
The cabbie says something - I don't hear it. If I had to guess - which I do - I'm guessing he's asking where I want to go. So, with great effort, deliberately pronouncing each syllable, I say "Winslow and Bay." He says something again and guns the engine - I don't even guess what he says this time. As long as the cab is moving, I know I'm going home.
Now I'm trying to pay attention, gotta make sure he's going the right way. But I keep wanting to nod off, and my head is snapping up and down. I'm forcing my eyes open, sucking in breath between my teeth. Little trick I picked up somewhere - which works, because it feels wicked good having cold air flood my mouth. And I know I'll be able to make it home. And I breathe out - not breathe, blow the air out like a frustrated kid - and suck in more air. Heaven, excellent.
Out the front window, I can see my huge apartment building grow bigger as we approach. So close, so close...
Now we're out front and he's saying something - probably the total, or 'here we are' or something like that. The huge red LED's in front say $8.25. I grab my cab money and hand it to him - it's a $20 and I don't even care at this point - say "Have a good night" although I doubt he can understand me because I'm slurring so bad. I get out and start fishing for my keys.
The cab drives off as I'm walking to the door. Keys in hand. I'm walking purposely now, because I've only got enough energy to get in the door, get in the elevator, get out of the elevator, get to my apartment, open up the door, lock the door, and that'll be it.
Now I'm in the elevator - how did I get in? - riding up. I've got my head slammed against the wall, eyes closed, barely treading consciousness. I keep repeating, 'Listen for the ding, listen for the ding, listen for the ding...'.
Finally, after what's been, like, 20 minutes, I get to my floor. When the elevator dings, I'm not expecting it, and I throw open my eyes and rear back from the wall like a panicked horse. The doors open...
Now I'm at my apartment, and the goddamn key won't fit. Oh, it's the wrong one. I'm so drunk. There. Now I'm inside. Lock the door. And I lie down right there. Eyes closed, the floor is spinning underneath me and as I'm blacking out, I hope I don't wake up with puke on my new carpet.
User Reviews
Submitted by sinna (user info) at 2005-08-23 11:15:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was pretty well written.
It brought back some memories. Well... at least it brought back some voids where memories should be.
Submitted by pharmgirl147 (user info) at 2005-08-23 02:04:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I've been in that kind of situation, except all I've ever had to do is walk back to my dorm room. I did not enjoy walking back that far... every step felt like death... but not compaired to how I felt the next day.