The Night...

The night we arrived in Sacramento is a blur. I do remember that too many people showed up to pick us up. My friend and former roommate Sean was waiting for us as was whoever actually took us to Bryna's mom's house.

Bryna's little sister, who may have been fourteen, if that, offered me some punch. The international drinking contest gold medal was not with me as this teenager drank her punch like it was punch and I myself landed on the bathroom floor.

There is great debate as to what happened next. I recall that I needed to use the batrhoom for it's intended purpose and being quite shy I kept locking the door. The sister(s), I can't remember how many there were, I'd guess forty but that seems unlikely, kept picking hte lock, claiming I was passing out rather than doing business and of course I wasn't doing any business as I was worried that the door was about to spring open again. The next memory is of lying on the cold tile sqeezed between the bathtub and the toilet. I did say the word bitch. I don't recall that I knew I was calling Bryna a bitch. I don't recall having any reason too. She was not exactly proud of the boyfriend she'd brought home, the one squeezed between the bathtub and the toilet, even before the word escaped my lips. "Oooooh busted." the teenager was heard to say.

The rest of the night is black, but I woke up without a girlfriend and headed down to Corona to live on my brother's couch and write many letters.

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