"If you must drink and drive, drink Pepsi."Author unknown, as seen on a bumper sticker
I woke up this morning lying at the front door of my house; the bottom half of me outside and the upper half in. My head, feeling two sizes too small, was resting on a pillow. My grandmother must have found me there and having failed to rouse me, decided that I might as well be comfortable. The old girl's good at taking things like this in stride.
The last thing I remember was being at a lounge called Home by the Melaka River where Shaki, a homeboy of mine, was celebrating his 25th birthday. I was told to be there at 8:30 pm and arrived ten minutes late to still be the first guest to materialise. So, I dialed Shaki up,
"Why the fuck must you always be on time?" he said, laughing. "Hang on, we are reaching soon."
Only in Malaysia can I get told off for not being late enough. Anyhow, some fellas and I pooled our funds and got him a book which he'd been wanting badly. And yeah, I was the one who introduced him to the original trilogy and got him hooked. The author should really cut me a share of his royalties considering how many people I have gotten to read his books.
The rest of the party was a series of fractured snapshots in my memory bank and I remember laughing too much and generally having a rip-roaring good time knocking back drinks after too many drinks. Then, at some point, my spirit-soaked mind went right off the grid and nothing further registered until I woke up this morning draped across the threshold of my house. After a few phone calls, I managed to piece together the following sequence of events:
An hour before the party concluded, I stopped downing glasses of Scotch. Apparently, I told everyone that that's because I have to drive myself back. Just before I left, someone got a hold of me and asked me if I'm capable of captaining a car on my own. My response was to smile
Another someone said, "He looks fine. Cut him loose." And cut loose I was. Personally, I don't think many people were in any condition to make sensible judgment calls at that point.
It had started pouring a bit as I was walking to my car. I called my girlfriend up en route because I told her to expect a ring from me after the party ends. It seems that even when I was running on autopilot, I was capable of remembering to do that. She told me that I stayed on the phone the entire time till I reached home base safely. You know what that means right? It meant that I had committed the trifecta of dangerous driving: drunk and talking on the cellphone while it's raining.
Shaki said that their ride caught up with mine just as I was reaching my suburban neighborhood. According to him, I appeared to be driving fine, if a bit slow and unsure. He also said that I did not kill any strays or run any hobos over, and the lack of any bloodstains on my car supports that account. On arrival, Phoebe said I remarked that I wanted to puke and proceeded to do just that because I'm a man of my words ("It sounded disgusting," she said). After my revolting and execrable performance, I purportedly mumbled something unintelligible before hanging up. And then bam! Drunken coma in the doorway.
That's it. I swear I'm never drinking that much ever again.
Irresponsibly liquored twit,
k0k s3n w4i