And I'm not talking about on the sidewalk, or in the dumpster or garbage can. I was drunkenly trying to get back to this heavy metal bar, the one with the hearse parked out front that has "honky lips" spray-painted on it. It's also the one that Katherine and I had been drinking beer in front of earlier in the night and were lucky enough to be solicited by a "punk" and his guido friend to come walk to the water with them, where it was "magical" and where they were NOT going to give us some of the punk's orange juice and vodka (separate containers stowed inside his black leather motorcycle jacket). Since we were saying no absolutely not going with you the moment they started talking, the guido friend tried to gain my trust by showing me his resume, which was actually his cover letter, and then I finally had to put the kibosh on all the persuading and say flat out "not interested, man, go away." The incident provided much hilarious fodder for K and I after, at some point prompting me to muse "What kind of pussy tries to pick up a lady with showing off his nasty screwdrivers which I can't have any of?"
Finding our way back to the heavy metal bar, I detoured us into what was basically a landfill. It was just an opening in a fence and within it was what looked like the remains of a war zone. There was so much garbage that you would be hard-pressed to find a patch of dirt to stand on. It was about the size of half a block with some buildings closing in on two sides. One of the buildings was a trailer and as we walked in and looked up, you could see two old people sitting on lawnchairs on the roof of it, gazing up at the sky. They were too far away to hear me gasp when I chanced to look down at my feet and see the storm trooper, lying awkwardly posed and clearly forgotten/unloved. I scooped him into my arms and paid attention to him all night.
Of course I fell asleep on the J and missed my subway stop (brings back a lot of memories). In my storm trooper-clutching confidence I decided to try and walk back home, figuring I'll just follow the J tracks - it couldn't be far. As I walked Jamaica Ave. I quickly realized that I was drunk, alone, and clutching a storm trooper doll. So I found a cab that couldn't break the large bill I was carrying. I had to break a hundred with white cheddar cheezits. While the cab took me back to my bed, I watched evergreen cemetery fly past my window - we were on the jackie robinson (one of my favorite highways?). There was no way I could have walked back to my house. It was 5am when I set stormy on the floor and laid down.
At 8:30am I woke up and dragged myself to the bathroom. My roommates were doing yoga in the living room. I brushed my teeth and blinked slowly at my reflection in the mirror wondering if I would smell like hangover at work. It turned out okay. I ate a bagel and had an afternoon coffee and almost cracked at about 4 or 5 but I made it all the way to 6:30 and went home and went right to sleep.
And today is today. It is also friday.
