This is the first of a three part blog, 'cause I couldn't fit everything into one, and it makes more sense to break everything up anyway. I'll add the other two later.
PART ONE: THE FIRST INCIDENT
Life is one huge experience. I don't have many beliefs that I'd stand by no matter how strong the counter-argument, but that's one of them. Under no circumstances do I think you should turn down the oppurtunity to do something interesting, unless the reward for your troubles is potential death. Don't say 'no', in other words- Danny Rogers had it so right when he wrote Yes Man.
What you need not do though, is tell everyone about it. Not every experiece is good, or newsworthy, or- and this, I guess, is the point of today's blog- something to be proud of. On that note, I'd like to make it clear that I'm not proud of the tale you may be about to read. Not proud at all.
But fuck it, I'm telling you anyway.
---
The day began well enough, although perhaps a tad too far on the early side for my liking. I awoke nervous and tired, both of which were entirely reasonable feelings under the circumstances of the morning. As it turned out, the nerves were especially justified, and it makes me glad human beings can't see the future. More of that later.
Got into town around half-eleven. Can't remember how I was feeling at that point. Probably neither excitement nor dread. I tend to veer away from such feelings nowadays, as I'm generally wrong whichever it is. When you think things will go right they go wrong, and vice versa. So neither is good enough for me.
I met up with my friend (who will henceforth feature heavily, and be known as X) in town, as well as his girlfriend and her mate, both of which I would get to know quite well in the ensuing hours, via the wonderful modicum of alchohol. That most popular of legal drugs has the amazing side-effect of breaking down barriers between people who don't know each other very well. I would take that side-effect to a nauseous extremes later on.
Our first destination- an utterly foolish, deluded, retarded one contributed by X- was Stephen's Green. I knew and tried to convince X that our chances of getting wasted without getting caught there were utterly marginal, and so we had the following exchange:
Me: I hear they've guards come through every couple of minutes now.
X: Nah, they're only there at closing time.
Me: I think it's been changed though.
X: Stop fucking whinging, we'll be grand!
Fast forward to Stephen's Green, and there are at least two pairs of security guard eyes on us EVERY FUCKING SECOND we spend in the place. I wasn't angry, as X was- we weren't in the slightest bit innocent and the guards knew it. Fair enough. I wasn't even that eager to get drunk yet.
That soon changed.
---
We're still at Stephen's Green, only now it's the shopping centre, having been dragged in their by X's girlfriend's mate. We're on the top floor, sitting directly outside Asha to be precise, reading a wonderful 'Shit Happens' poster on the window. We're laughing and being merry, albeit slightly weary. The Park catastrophe has taken morale down quite a bit, and the possibility that today is going to be a disaster is looming in all our minds. And then things got worse.
I'm sensitive to drops in mood. Very sensitive. It only takes the smallest, most insignificant thing to take me down, but when it happens, I'm gone. After that, all hell breaks loose- I'll look for an escape anywhere I can. I won't list them, because to be quite honest the many ways in which I've tried to get a release of tension would probably make you wretch.
Unfortunately today, one was readily available.
Whilst we were merrily sitting our little selves outside Asha, an ex of mine appeared unexpectedly from the shop, hand-in-hand with whoever it is she's seeing now. Bollocks. This wasn't so much a small, insignificant trigger for my mood as it was a proper swing kick in the nuts. Worse, I fucking knew it would happen, because fate (being the bitter, sadistic wanker that he is) has decided that wherever I go from now on, she will be there. There was so much irony in this episode as to make me sick- from the fact that she had made me stop drinking during our relationship downwards. It was all ridiculously romcom.
Whatever. Now I needed an escape, and after a couple of half-serious threats to X that I would take the suspicious Coca-Cola bottle out of his bag right there and then and start swigging, we were away. We had one other place it seemed we could go to get locked- some mysterious realm called The Hideout. I've alluded to it in another post, it being a dark, shadowy pool-hall seemingly exclusively for teenagers. Grand. We made our way to its depths.
Trouble was, I was now unreasonably angry and upset. X's girlfriend put it best when she said, of the ex I bumped into:
'Fuck her.'
Correct. Except from hereon in, we were all fucked.
0 comments:
Post a Comment