Waking up in strange places

It was a quiet Sunday night in the apartment with Bren out with his sisters and Missy on holiday with relatives in Brisbane. I was alone in the apartment...

Rui(a guy from Portugal who was part of a group of Europeans who moves into our apartment complex a few months ago) dropped by whilst I was sitting around, watching The Lord of the Rings: the Return of the King for the nth time and generally going mad with boredom. I had made the rather silly, yet somewhat mature decision that I would have the quiet night in, not spend much money, and look after my liver, which has been battered with different types of alcohol on the past few weeks. Including some bloody good gin.

Rui was having a few farewell drinks in his apartment upstairs, as he was leaving Melbourne for the more sedate, laid-back, sunny inclines of his native country. So after picking up a few beers from the local offy, I rammed my way into his apartment and duly set about the business of, er, battering my liver with different types of alcohol. It seems adult maturity and responsibility are a fleeting breath of wind in my world.

'Twas a small gathering, but that didn't stop the madness creeping in, and before too long the beers were finished and we were onto the rum. Rui had made the mistake of buying a festive-looking bottle of brandy which none of us were willing to touch. It seemed to threaten us with death just sitting there.

Luigi, the hot Italian guy from downstairs, shoved a glass of amber into my hands whole jabbering away about his summer plans and how he told his boyfriend that he had been sleeping around with other people(charming, I know). I summoned up some vestiges of male pride to say, "That's  pretty fuckin' wrong man," but   of course this came out as, "What's in this drink?"

"Ah," he smiled with a knowing look, "It is a drink a friend and I made. 50% beer, 50% rum."

Oh shit.

I woke up cold and very drunk in a chair I didn't recognize,in a backyard I didn't recognize, and surrounded by a skyline I didn't recognize.

"Oh crap!" My first thoughts were. These thoughts were duly followed by "Where am I?", "How did I get here?" and - the most terrifying threat of all - "Where the fuck is my watch?"

A tall unkempt guy drunkenly staggered his way out into the backyard with an unknown girl on his arm and a drink clutched in his hand. "Hola! Quienes son usted?"

To which I replied in my best Spanish, "Habla no es Espanol!" Which probably makes no sense, but I can't speak any frickin' Spanish. I was still frozen solid in my chair, but I had the peculiar sensation that the world was tipping over, thanks in part to the many glasses of the beer/rum split Luigi had thrust upon me.

Julio, my new Colombian neighbor(Mr. Cocaine and Sex guy) came tearing out of the house, and upon seeing me, shoved a plastic cup with strange liquid in it.
"Queeen, my friend, how are you?"
"Frickin' drunk Julio." I slurred. "Where are we man?"

"We are in St. Keee-da my friend, my friend."

"St. Kilda?" I yelped back at him, "How did we get here? What party is this? Who are these people?"

Well I think that's what I said to him, but I can't remember much of the conversation at all, and it probably took a few decent attempts before I managed to push the words out of my mouth.

"We caught a cab here. I don't know who these people are, mang. I thing Xavier is here somewhere."

Oh cripes. "How much did the cab cost?"

"I thing... it was a lot", Julio said, wavering unsteadily on his feet.

Oh bloody cripes. "Who paid for it, Julio?"

Julio tilted his head and smiled at me, "Queeen, me friend..."

Oh-bloody-big-pile-of-cripes-with-blood-poured-over-them. I couldn't remember any of that. And my watch was still missing.

Throwing caution to the wind, I knocked back the plastic cup of foul liquid; It looked like the deadly-looking brandy at the earlier party. For good reason, too -  that stuff gave me a nasty case of heartburn the likes of which I've never known.

We moved on inside to the three-storey party and made a solid attempt at joining the fracas, but the tiredness, drunkenness and the fact that we didn't know anyone started getting in the way of a good time. Plus, I was cranky that my lovely, sexy gorgeous, sexy beast of a watch had departed my body at some time and was probably now being pawned for crack. I navigated my way through a sea of undulating bodies and found Julio slumped against a wall. He agreed that leaving was a good idea - he was in more of a drunken state than I was -  but he was still conscious enough to delay our departure for a good fifteen minutes whilst he searched for his bottle of rum.

"Oh fark, Queeen, my rum!", Julio cried.

"Bugger that, Julio," I slurred back at him. "I've lost my watch. At least you get to return home with a minor shrapnel wound - my body is festering in a Vietnamese paddy field!" He failed to understand the humour or analogy(to be fair, it was pissweak), and cursed his missing rum as we weaved our way down the pitch-black street to the bus stop, muttering in Spanish all the way. I simply didn't care at this point - didn't care that I was absolutely wasted, didn't care about my watch, didn't care that It looked liked midnight but it was actually 4 in the morning - I wanted a bed and nothing more.

We got home after a one and a half hour trip, where I headed to my bed, Julio headed for my couch. As for my watch? I found it this afternoon when I woke up and headed on autopilot to the fridge to down a gallon of water and ate some rice crispies with Red Bull. As you do.

Comments

[kev]

my gosh. you are so funny. oh and so cute. ;)
greetings from kuala lumpur, malaysia.

[kev]

my gosh. you are so funny. oh and so cute. ;)
greetings from kuala lumpur, malaysia.

[erik]

very funny. i never spent a minute reading stuff like this but u got some hilarious bits =). Keep it coming, I got u on my fave list.

[Quin]

Thanks for taking the time to read this post, Erik...