BAM, A Night of Social Drinking, Part I.A(1)(b)

BAM – I come out of a blackout and I’m standing upright and dressed quite well, albeit a bit wrinkled. It’s dark and I know where I am – I’m on Second Avenue and about 80th Street or so and it appears that I’ve been “walking” north, which is toward home. Okay, well, I can live with that. I couldn’t have been too bad if I’m still dressed in my work clothes and on my way home while the streets are still pretty busy. I look down at my watch to see what time it is; I have a hard time seeing this fancy schmancy watch under the best of circumstances – so forget it now! I turn to my left, to a blurry blob of a person coming toward me and ask what time it is. Well, I never! – what an ass, it just looked at me and kept walking.

On the next block down is a Korean deli with a lit sign for Newports and a digital clock. Wow, it’s only 10:30. What’s up with that? I stand there for what seems like an eternity, trying to conjure up where I was tonight that I would have had one of them late-night bouts of insanity already, this early [I don’t know what a “blackout” is yet. I have become convinced that I am simply visited late at night by periods of insanity that no one can ever find out about and am becoming increasingly afraid that I will not come out of it one day soon]. How…disturbing. I’m not feeling so good, so I think I’ll just finish off the 9 blocks home – oh, jeez. I’m not walking so well either. So I attempt to resort to my handy “follow the middle line on the sidewalk,” couple of steps…OOPs – to no avail.

Not only have I fallen, when I open my eyes, I find that I have fallen off the curb by the side of the road. I am literally lying in the gutter. Wow, what a way to wreck a perfectly good pair of stockings.

While I’m down here I think I’m going to take a little rest. Whew, that half block was hard - and really potentially embarrassing, although I usually believe that no one sees me! I can’t believe I’ve taken to staggering without any sense of balance – I’m always in some kind of control of my legs at 10:30 at night – what the… This is just unbelievable. I think I really must need to drink more water. I think maybe I’m just super dehydrated.

And as I lie there, contemplating what’s happened that I might have ended up not being able to follow the straight line, I look up and see a simple, beautiful sight: out from the deli down the block skips a woman, her hair flowing in the wind, a Sunday New York Times Early Edition under her arm, a sweet dog on a leash and a big smile on her face. Behind her follows a man, a really handsome man in scrubs with a sexy deep laugh. He runs up, grabs her by the hand and they dance up the block with their dog, their paper and their seemingly light and happy life.

Wow, I think as I prop myself up on my elbow in my gutter. If only I could be nice. Look at her. She looks so…nice. And the guy – wow. I wonder how they just…live like that. She’s got great hair.

And I marvel again at how nice she is and I wonder if maybe I could do this “nice” thing and maybe get a nice life and be well at 10:30 on a Saturday night and get an Early Edition of the Times and maybe even read it with my nice guy and my nice dog in my nice apartment. And then we could go to bed and make love and wake up and have the energy to do it all again. Nicely. That’s it. I’ll be nice!

But that feeling from the deep, dark comes flying up and whispers in my drunken ear, nah, no way, girl, you’ve already tried that one. You can’t do nice. You just can’t pull it off, not for very long anyway. How many times have I told you, this just isn’t your life for romance. Not going to happen. Not your life for “normal” either. Just remember to keep dressing that way and you’ll be all right.

And it leaves me with a burn in my throat and a sour taste in my mouth. It’s right, of course. I’ve tried just about every act I can think of to shake this ongoing, progressive insanity that appears to be creeping up my ladder. Shrinks, anti-depressants, speed, coke, booze, acid…the list goes on. It’s just going to come when it comes.

I take one last look at them as they dance into the building, complete with the doorman holding the door open for them. Wow. I smile sadly – it is what it is, right? And I lift myself out of the gutter, straighten my ripped stockings and toddle home. Part (c), tomorrow.

Today, I’m grateful that, not only can I walk straight, I Can Snowshoe Up Mount Rainier!!