The first thing I noticed was the cut. It stung when I washed my face. And when I looked up to see what was wrong – there it was, staring at me like a third eye. In fact, that’s about where it was too – right where a third eye would be if I were an alien (or maybe a little more spiritually enlightened than I am).
“Damn”, I thought, staring at an otherwise perfect face “I wish I knew how I got that.”
Slowly, bits and pieces of the previous night came back into focus. Dinner, drinks (so many drinks), a game of pool and a ride home via taxi.
My head wasn’t aching and my stomach wasn’t upset so I think I was safe in assuming I wasn’t hung over. By the same token however, the room was still swimming, just a bit, so perhaps we can assume I was still slightly drunk.
I took out my phone and texted my dinner and pool companion.
I jut got up and not hungover either. May actually be still drink though. : )
A minute later I read what I wrote and provided the correction.
Totally missed “jut”.
Much as my eyes wanted to close, I couldn’t stand the thought of missing work, or of calling in late. Not on account of drinking anyway. So I had a breakfast. You know, to soak up the alcohol. Although frankly – it didn’t stop the room from trying to twirl me around in a hazy ballet dance. I kept wondering why my stomach didn’t want to heave. It never does, actually, when I drink Chardonnay.
(By the way, I need to mention something before talking about this further. I value the privacy of my friends and family so will never ever take liberties with their names or identities on my blog. In fact, as much as I adore my good friend from that night, I won’t write much about her. This blog is about me. Beautiful, exciting, slightly narcissistic and totally humble me.)
As I was preparing breakfast, I suddenly gasped.
“Holy shit” I thought. “Did I even pay for the pool and drinks at the pool hall? Did we inadvertently scam that place?” My friend had generously paid for our dinner and drinks, but I really had no idea whether I paid for our game of pool. I know I *intended* to pay.
Me and my facial cut scrambled over to the computer to quickly look up my bank account. I sighed in relief. There it was. $103.74 to Jerry’s Pool Hall.
Memories of that never-ending one game of pool filtered through my alcohol-soaked consciousness. It seemed the balls were all were magnetically repelled from the pockets or something. We couldn’t get near them. Sinking one of them was like a miracle. We cheered each other wildly whenever it happened. I’m pretty sure my cue was defective because several times it refused to even go near the while ball, preferring instead to skid along the green felt.
Wait. Not green. The felt was actually kind of a pukey white.
And when we were done playing……well actually we weren’t done, exactly. I think we just lost interest. The black ball retained its stately dignity, having never come close to making an acquaintance with a pocket. My companion went to the washroom, while I made a majestic attempt to get the balls back together.
I took all of the balls – both of them – out of the pockets and lined them all up with the unsunk balls. Then I put the triangle thing around them. Then (I swear to God this is true) I tried to gather them all up in my arms so as to return them to the front. But they kept falling out of the triangle, scurrying away like bratty mice.
The guy at the front got tired of laughing I suppose. He eventually came to my rescue and provided a tray for them.
I paid up and we left. And that’s all I remember.
I don’t recall the ride home, don’t recall paying the cabbie. Worse, I don’t recall whether I brushed my teeth or not before falling into bed. The only evidence I was in the bathroom at all was the tube of suntan lotion and tube of toothpaste lying on the floor in there.
What a night.
P.S. Bits of the night are still coming back to me. It’s entirely possible that we did finish that game. I really have no idea. I do know I didn’t win. I have no idea why this is important.