26 may 2005, a.m.
It’s 8 am and I just got home, and I feel so disoriented that sitting and writing about it for a few minutes could hardly make things worse. I have come home many times when the city has been waking up, but this is the first time it was officially awake, with full trams and women in daytime heels and a man shooting noxious gas out of a trailer labeled “Gum Busters,” which I guess dissolves the chewing gum from right between the street bricks. My bicycle ride home was terribly dangerous, my reflexes slow and distorted, from beer and lack of sleep. This was the first night I closed out the Doos. It wasn’t part of my plan; originally I was just going to hang out at the Alto until three or so. But the jazz ended at one and my friends went home, and so I went to the Doos.
It was a good decision; I got to chat with Peter and Maria, and receive Onno’s ambiguous but flattering kisses hello, and watch Lance kick ass at chess. (Chess! It is like computer programming, this entity I will never understand, and I know that people who get it feel superior, and I’m ok about that.)
I wasn’t even going to drink, because this weekend of lacrosse camp made me feel out of shape, and I don’t diet but I could do without some of the miscellaneous beer consumption that has become so regular here. So all I had was something with Malibu, because the day felt like summer and that seemed like a summer drink. But then around five am Maria started giving us free beers, just to keep us around for closing, because the company from six onward can be unpleasant or at least uninteresting. And in the end it was just Lance and I, talking shit as Maria counted out the register. And in the very end it came out that Lance makes quiche from scratch, and that I’ve never had a quiche from scratch, and so Maria and I are meeting at his place at 2 pm for quiche, if he doesn’t oversleep his 1 pm alarm, which he might. And I tried as hard as I could to confirm that this wasn’t just a drunk invitation, that in fact there will be quiche, and they both reassured me.
So I have six hours. I want to sleep, but it is a beautiful day out, and there is so much to do. But I think I need to sleep.
It was a good decision; I got to chat with Peter and Maria, and receive Onno’s ambiguous but flattering kisses hello, and watch Lance kick ass at chess. (Chess! It is like computer programming, this entity I will never understand, and I know that people who get it feel superior, and I’m ok about that.)
I wasn’t even going to drink, because this weekend of lacrosse camp made me feel out of shape, and I don’t diet but I could do without some of the miscellaneous beer consumption that has become so regular here. So all I had was something with Malibu, because the day felt like summer and that seemed like a summer drink. But then around five am Maria started giving us free beers, just to keep us around for closing, because the company from six onward can be unpleasant or at least uninteresting. And in the end it was just Lance and I, talking shit as Maria counted out the register. And in the very end it came out that Lance makes quiche from scratch, and that I’ve never had a quiche from scratch, and so Maria and I are meeting at his place at 2 pm for quiche, if he doesn’t oversleep his 1 pm alarm, which he might. And I tried as hard as I could to confirm that this wasn’t just a drunk invitation, that in fact there will be quiche, and they both reassured me.
So I have six hours. I want to sleep, but it is a beautiful day out, and there is so much to do. But I think I need to sleep.
posted by tortaluga at 8:18 PM
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