The Lesson

I was at a party at Dave Downey's house, above the comic book shop he owned. His parties were notorious. I had toured the closed rooms where he kept all his cool old toys and promotional statuettes, cereal boxes etc. I'd sat on the back steps with Kirk watching people use the bathroom through the high window, and I'd drank my share and then some. It was time to be stupid.

A man with red hair looked to me a little too confident and removed. I was pretty sure he was the devil. I asked him if he was the devil. He just smiled; exactly what I'd expect the devil to do. Later when I was on the floor laughing histerically it was the devil who extended his hand to help me up. I got up on my own and ran out the door. I wasn't drunk enough to be acting this crazy. I was drunk enough to allow myself the novelty of acting this crazy.

I wasn't sure what to do for a second act. I decided running felt good and the cold October air was inviting. I ran to Emily's house. We'd broken up a few months or weeks earlier when I slept with her best friend. Go easy on me, it was more complicated than that. I was now trying to win her back. I ran as fast as I could, loving the dramatic feeling of it all, and loving my beautiful town. The cold air stung my lungs, it hurt something wonderful.

I crossed a strange ally that had been turned into a sort of communal park/back yard for all the houses that backed up to it. I'd never seen anything like it and I wondered what the residences of these houses had in common. Were they a cult? I threw up in their beautiful ally. I ran some more.

I reached Emily and knocked on the door, waking her up. She slapped me when I stepped on her cat. I explained it was an accident. I was running again. I crossed the weird ally again. I threw up again.

Back at the Party it seemed strange how little had changed. I'd just had a major adventure, found a new strange place and stepped on a cat. Donna was still talking about the outfit she was putting together for the next night's show.

My roommate Chris dragged me out. I playfully took a hat from a pretty girl and put it on my head. Some big ape punched me and took the hat back. 'Fucking Hero' I thought as I got in Chris' car. Chris kicked me out when I started making fart noises with my tongue between my lips, spraying spit everywhere.

The Press Club looked interesting. I wandered in and grabbed a seat. "You got ID on you?" The old lady bartender asked.

"Yes I do." I answered matter of factly as I began fishing out my wallet. "May I have a shot of ice cold vodka please?"

She put the vodka down as I set my ID down. I dropped the shot down my throat as she did the math and determined I was 19 years old. "Get the fuck out of here." She growled. 'Free vodka' I thought to myself, stumbling to the plastic, electronic dart board. I wanted to stick around for a bit. I'd never been in a bar before and it was a night for new experiences. The vodka felt nice in my belly, a bit of sting left in my throat.

A bespectacled woman stood with her face just inches from the dart board carefully placing darts one at a time where they needed to be.

"I think... um... I think you are supposed to... you know... you are supposed to stand back there, there, where the yellow line is, and you stand there and throw the darts." I stuttered.

She fixed me with a hard stare, made all the more dramatic as her glaring eyes were magnified by the thick goggle like glasses she wore.

"Do you see that score?" She asked. I looked up. It was impressive as far as I could tell. "And YOU'RE gonna tell ME how to play darts? Ha!"

She had an excellent point. "Do you want to dance?"

"No!" she answered shaply. It was just as well. Some jam band was playing on the juke box and I'd have had no idea how to move to the neverending guitar solos.

I made my way toward the door, sure the bartender would be on her way to eject me physically any minute now. Two burley men, exactly the type the barteneder would enlist to bounce me, were playing pool and drinking a six pack of beer they'd smuggled in.

"Can I get a pull off that beer?" I asked one of them.

"If you can get it open." He handed me the bottle. I walked out the door with the full beer, using the edge of a brick in a wall to pry the top off. I drank my second free drink of the night and made it the five blocks to my apartment without falling down or throwing up.

I had the spins but didn't fight them. 'Best to go with them.' I reminded myself as I spun into unconciousness. In the morning I took twenty minutes crawling to the bathroom, determined not to puke until I made it to the bowl. By the time I got there it was the other end that was in revolt. I had a seat, made bad noises and then I had to puke after all. I stared left and right in a panic. The trash can and the sink were both out of reach. I couldn't move from the bowl as my ass was not ready to behave itself. I puked in my pants.

I sat there on the toilet with my pants around my ankles and full of puke. My head was swimming as I tried to piece together the details of the night before. I figured there must be a lesson in all of this, somewhere.