I had a great weekend. On Friday I got out of work and went to the movie Inception. Fabulously thrilling movie. I thought i started off a bit slow and erratic, but it picked up after the first half hour. Afterwards my sister, Ravi and I went to Cafe Coco and ate food and had good conversation. I get home around 315 and go to bed.
At 350 I hear yelling and banging on our door… like crazed bloody murder. I wait and try to make out the mayhem, listening in for any coherent message. It’s my room mate and he’s yelling crazy shit about me. I listen carefully and creep out of my room, trying to figure out what door this is coming from. Without turning on the lights, I quietly walk towards the kitchen and see a figure on the back porch. I stealthily step outside into the dark and the adrenaline takes over. My room mate is smashed, black out drunk. I stiffen and watch him in the shadows momentarily before breaking his sottish silence. “What the fuck are you doing?” My voice is low, forceful, irritated.
His drunken preoccupations melt away as his dull wan eyes meander towards mine. His black out rage quickly turns to a shameful confusion as he slowly gains traction of the situation.
I was not in a position to wait around for him to get it together so I dismiss his rambling explanations and order him inside. As the epinephrine wears off, a piercing pain occurs to me, followed by the realization that I’m barefoot and treading on a piles of shard glass. Holding the screen door open, I reach inside and flick on the porch light. The screen door in my hand is noticeably bent at such an odd degree that I’m left wondering how its still attached to the frame. Its window appears to be missing, which accounts for the sharded glass penetrating the soles of my feet. I also notice that the door frame is split pretty severely.
Skipping along…
While my room mate attempts to tinker and unsuccessfully lock the back door, I explain in my most rudimentary tone why our door is broken and why there is glass everywhere, in my feet, in his hands, in our kitchen. He refuses to hear what I’m saying and only repeats in a low disappointed voice, almost to himself, “I didn’t do this. This is not good. This is not good at all. Oh boy. Not good. Uh oh. I didn’t do this. Not good at all.” Being the simple creature that my room mate is, this drunk charade almost made laugh, and would have if it wasn’t 430 in the morning and I wasn’t bleeding out the feet.
Long story short, after fifteen minutes of him being drunk and stupid and loud, and not going to bed, and getting aggressive with me, I flip out, and go crazy, and threaten to lose my cool, and order him to go to bed using my meanest battle vocals. We stared at each other, motionless, red in the face and he utters in a drunken slur, “You better get a handle on that,” and turns to go to his room before slamming the door in an awkward attempt to show his disapproval.
With a nervous relief I sighed and sought refuge under my covers.
On Saturday I went to las paletas, a latin American Popsicle store… the Popsicles were amazing… to die for. They had the most exotic flavors… Mexican caramel, avocado, rice, strawberry raspberry, kiwi, cafe, etc. Cream or ice. It was amazing. From there we went to costco and bought groceries…
Following costco we tried finding this store called the green wagon… its a really hipster/ hippy convenient store… they refill empty bottles with detergent or shampoo or soap or whatever… they also have all locally produced goods such as clothing and art and appliances and other random stuff.
After that we picked up some friends and went to Cheekwood botanical gardens to see the famed blown glass artist Chihuly’s exhibit. Unfortunately it closed at 430 on Saturday. We wanted to see the exhibit during the day with natural light and in the evening magically illuminated. It’s suppose to be numinously divine. Since that was closed we just drove around the country side, through Percy Warner park, and admired some mansions dotted along the way. Magnificent day, perfect temperature.
That evening Haley’s sister and room mate were celebrating their birthday’s at a sushi restaurant… so I couldn’t pass it up. I went with Ravi… had octopus and squid sushi… mixed with a variety of other tasty fish like salmon, yellow fin and eel. it was pretty darn good.
After dinner I picked up beer, took a shower, and met up with them at their house for her birthday party. It was small but fun. I stayed with a few bros for awhile, entertained some people with dialogue and my two beer queer antics then departed for a part with my frat bros. I brought Haley and her sister along, against my best judgment. Haley had taken shots of tequila and she gets insane when she drinks. Considering we hadn’t talked too much the past week I know she had a lot pent up, but I thought I would give her the benefit of the doubt. Bad Idea. We get to the house and I walk in, screaming and yelling with enthusiasm as I’m greeted warmly by my bros. About 30 min in I find out Haley starts losing it. Long story short, she starts having an emotional break down and insists on leaving. I was reluctant until her voice started cracking and I could hear the anger seething through her teeth. I said lets go… but she wanted to go out the back door… because… she was upset and… couldn’t get herself together for 20 ft. Whatev. As soon as we walk out the door she begins flipping out. screaming, yelling profanities,
I go back inside and say fuck it. She’s nuts. I don’t need this. Ravi comes to me 10 min later explains shes out front. I go out front and cautiously approach her with concern. I ask what’s up, what happened, etc…She flips out, attacks me. Again, I say fuck it and drive her home.
I come back to the party and joke about her womanly hysteria. Soon after we make plans to walk 5 blocks to Dan McGuiness.
Long story short, some underage girls can’t get in so a group got together to go downtown. I hop in their cab and head to Rippy’s.
Eventually we abandon Broadway and walk to Lonnies in printers ally. I’m drunk and get adventurous. I also lose all fiscal responsibility and head for an ATM. Munchies. I walk outside with Ravi. A man with a hot dog stand conveniently awaits me. What was once a crisp $20 bill is now a crumbled sweaty ball of paper that I shove into the vendors hand. I grab a hot dog, drench it in condiments. He hands me what looks like change and I stuff it into my pocket. We then proceed to walk next door into a Jazz Club. A large black bouncer awaits us. No cover. Sweet. I flash my ID. He inspects then gives me the OK. My 20 year old friend coolly hands over his ID. I strike up conversation about food. “Do you have food in this joint?” I asked intently, trying to sway his attention from my underage friend. He responds, and I nod and smile as we inch our way further inside. He returns the ID, we slowly breaking the cordial conversation and disappear into the crowd. We’re in. Woot.
I don’t remember the rest really… I remember I wanted to get a cab… but my friend didn’t want to pay 12 bucks…. so he convinced me to walk 7 miles across the city back to my car. Initially it was a good idea. Fellow drunkards kept us company along the way as they walked back to parking lots or their apartments along the string. Before long though we were pretty alone, and it was pretty late, and I was pretty not-drunk-but-still-drunk… like hungover, and feeling miserable. I stopped at PitaPit and entertained the entire establishment, staff and customers alike, with my curious antics. The food was good company until it was gone.
I remember I kept wanting to get to my car, where ever that was, really fast so I’d take off in full sprint for a block, leaving my friend confused and running and yelling after me. This would soon turn into exhaustion as my drunken wings became inflamed, and the breath of cool air turned to fire belching from the lungs, and I’d collapse on the sidewalk, or under a random tree, for a nap, totally sapped of energy. My friend would come upon me short of breath and poke me. Sometimes he’d nap along with me for a few minutes. He always kept pushing me to keep pushing on, so we’d get up and do it over again.
WE walked past a marriot hotel at one point. He mentioned air-conditioning and I shot right through the lobby and into a dimly lit breakfast area strewn with couches, TV’s, and fruit. Feeling like a clever bum, I kicked off my shoes and made myself at home. Ravi found me and giggled at the hilarity of the situation. We watched the news. Some guy walks in and Ravi tries rouses me by convincing me that he was security coming to get me. In a half sleep I pop up, throw on my shoes and dive in the shadows. I creep along the breakfast hall area and stop to pluck myself a apple from the fruit basket before slipping out onto the balcony and over the railing into the street. Don’t remember much. This was like mile 4. I do remember having to urinate at one point. Because it was 3 in the morning and not a soul was in sight, I thought it was a fantastic idea, being in the middle of the city and everything, to try out ‘Pee walking’. This just consisted of me continuing my usual pace while urinating in various directions with an artistic talent that was lent to the sidewalk designs that followed.
All I know is I made it back to my car at some point, and I felt sober. So I drove the remaining 3 miles home.
The remainder of my weekend….Too much to detail: wake up. Explore east ‘Hipster Nashville with my sister and Ravi. Go to green cow veggie restaurant.
Eventually:
haley comes over, apologizes. make up sex.
That afternoon: I Golf. It was awesome. and beautiful.
Dinner.
Call haley.
Bed.
My weekend.
William Dare 