Sunday, September 15, 2013

Drinking stories #1

Okay, I've been debating where to start with this portion of the blog as I have a ton of these. I thought about using one of my older—as in before I moved to Japan—stories, but I decided to go with a more recent one. It was a story that inspired a scene in my first shot at an urban fantasy, PAINTING WITH LIGHT AND SHADOW.

Now, where should I begin?

Ah, I've got it. I'll start with the inciting incident.

At this time, I was living with my Ex down in Chiba——Nishi-Funabashi to be exact——and I had just finished a really long work week at the international kindergarten that I was working at. It was about a month before the big earthquake if you want a time frame, and I wanted to sleep in on this particular Saturday.

My Ex, on the other hand, wasn't having any of it. Apparently, when I had come in the night before after three hours of overtime, I had went to the bathroom and left the toilet seat up ... I know, right? Some people are probably reading this going, "I don't see the problem," while others are screaming foul play at the top of their lungs. Well ... she was apart of the latter group. I was woken up with the covers stripped from the bed around eight, a glass of water to the face and an angry Japanese girl screaming in my ear.

Being tired and grumpy, I lost it. I yelled back. In order to avoid her crying fit/guilt trip, I stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door behind me. I grabbed a beer from the 7-11 on the way to the station and began to drink away.

Fast forward to night time, I was drunk. Somehow, I had ended up in Akihabara. I stumbled from the station and made my way into THE HUB——a British pub in Japan with good deals on drinks, no seat fee and a good, relaxed environment to meet new people.

I was in luck. It was still Happy Hour. THE HUB's Happy Hour is amazing as it comes with ~6-dollar, jumbo-sized Long Island Ice Teas. I grabbed two as to avoid paying the normal 9-dollar price. Good thing I was already drunk ... .

Once I had my two drinks in hand, I found that there were no tables available. So, I did what every other drunk foreigner tries to do when confronted with this problem: I strode up to the nearest table with a bunch of cute girls at it and introduced myself in Japanese.

We drank and drank, laughing the whole time. I told a few Japanese jokes that I had recently heard on TV, and they loved it. We were having a great time, but one of them had to wake up early Sunday morning for a company meeting. She invited me back to her place, but like a fool, I turned her down. Again, I can hear your reactions to this: "Why did you do that?" or "But don't you already have a girlfriend?" Both are valid questions, and honestly, I'm probably just not a good person.

So, once the last of the girls left, I decided to make my way around the bar. Three Long Islands in me, I could barely even see straight. I sat at one table with a bunch of punk-rocker-looking guys and girls, and we started taking shots. Oh ... that was a bad idea.

I remember chugging a beer and downing one more Long Island before my phone alarm went off to tell me that I needed to go in order to make the last train home. I said my farewells, and once again like a fool, I fell into a run towards the station. I shouldn't have stayed to get a kill from one of the punk-rocker girls, but she was really cute. In hindsight, walking to the station would have been so much better on my drunk ass.

Less than five minutes till the train arrived. My vision was blurred. I dodged and weaved poles and people alike with the grace of a flying brick. I hit my train card on the ticket booth and ran right through the 'you didn't touch it right' pin-ball stoppers. I face planted into the pole just beyond that. Lucky, I crashed forehead first. ... On a side note, this was not the last time me and that particular pole got familiar.

After recovering myself, I heard the automated voice say that the train has arrived. I dashed up the escalator and sprinted towards the train. The doors were closing, and an old man was getting onto the train. I had no choice. He was moving too slow. I shove him out of the way and slid onto the train.

I heard cursing from behind, so I spun to apologize to the old man ... possibly even try and hold the doors open. I puked all over him instead. I covered him from head to toe in liquid disgusting and the doors shut. He just stared at me as the train moved left the station.

The worst part? This isn't the end of the story. I know what your thinking. How could this get any worse? Well, it doesn't actually get worse, it just gets more, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

The puke in my mouth made me want to puke again. So, what did I do? I took a water bottle from a salary man passed out on the train and washed my mouth out. I chewed some gum and stuck it to his shoes ... I was drunk ... it was funny at the time. After my breath no longer made me gag, I moved to a different car and sat down, pulling my phone out and setting the alarm again in order to wake me up when the train arrived back at Nishi-Funabashi station.

I get a call from my Ex on the way home, and it wakes me up about half way there. Now, I'm grumpy, drunk and talking to someone I didn't even want to see. I started yelling.

Fortunately, she had gone back to stay with her parents for a few days as she was pissed at me. We argued for a long time. Until I got off the train. All eyes turned to me when I screamed into the phone. I told her to go fuck herself and slammed my phone shut. After stomping up the stairs, I felt the call of nature. It wasn't bad yet, but I knew I couldn't make it home——it was a long walk from the station to my place.

I stumbled to the bathroom and hit the switch on the handicap bathroom. I probably should have knocked first as there was a girl, probably as drunk as me, sitting on the toilet. She wobbled back and forth. Again, I probably should have just stepped away and went to the regular bathroom. Instead, I walked in, shut the door and locked it.

She smiled when she looked up at me, and I told her to hurry up. She had apparently just been sitting there, so she stood and gestured for me to use the toilet. I undid my pants and moved to go to the bathroom when she grabbed me by the dick. Once I got hard, peeing was the last thing on my mind. She moved to kiss me, and I could smell the vomit. I felt my own bile rising in the back of my throat as her lips touched mine.

Station attendants banged on the door before it got much further and forced us out of the bathroom. Ushering us forward, the made us exit the station altogether. I could have taken her back to my place or went to a Love Hotel, but her vomit tasting lips still turned my stomach. While she looked about confused, I scurried away and stumbled down the stairs ... not falling until the last one and only scraping my elbows and knees.

I got about halfway home when the call of nature flexed its muscles. I was in a graveyard. What else could I do? I stumbled over to the biggest grave and went town, washing it down with my piss. It felt so good afterwards. From there, I made it home and was hungover for two days, including Monday at work.

Well, that is one of my drinking stories. There are more, and most are not as disgusting, though quite a few involve puke.

Thank for reading,

Next: Why I don't drink whiskey anymore

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