All Through the Night (Part I)

Okay... Well, today is one of those days when blogging becomes a chore. I have only a few hours to clean my house, do my laundry and pack my bag for CA before B arrives for our hang-out tonight. And yet, if I don't get this post out, you won't hear from me for a week and all of this will be ancient history by then! As such, I think it's going to have to be a little less detailed than usual. (Also, I'm going to do it in a series of posts in case I don't have time to finish).

On Friday I had lunch with Dan. I don't know if any of you follow his blog, but last week he told me that he's "in love" with me, a declaration I found to be rather strange. I mean, he feels what he feels, but I don't know how well he even knows me. I guess I'll write more on that later. Anyway, we met for lunch at a nearby diner. I was having an internet connection problem and brought my laptop over there to steal some free wireless. Lunch was good, but I couldn't help feeling a little bit awkward. Needless to say, I steered clear of the whole "love" topic.

I had intended to be home and in bed early that night, as I was due at Port Authority (the bus station) the next morning by 8:00-ish to catch a bus to visit Hammer in D.C. You all know me though... A quick trip to Cheers at 8:00 pm turned into drunkeness and before I knew it, it was 11:00 pm and then midnight. I had a good time there, though. I hung out with BarMan before the karaoke started up. I always enjoy his company.

Anyway, most of the details are blurry, both from the alcohol and from the fact that I'm reporting on four-day old events. At one point I started talking to that guy who likes to sing Elvis songs--the one I met a few weeks ago when I was out with Bezoukhoff. I'll call him Crys. (You can read all about our meeting in my July 15th post--The Slip-Up). Anyway, he and I got to talking, and at some point we were joined by some other girl named Pati. Somehow the subject of "medicine" came up and Crys asked if I had any. I told him I was fresh out, but could try to order some more, which I did. The stuff arrived shortly and I invited them back to my place to indulge. The three of us hung out in my apartment for a little bit, and then brought a tray up to the roof. We stretched out on the roof deck, all laying around it on our stomachs, and talked for a while. At one point, someone else came up there and saw what we were doing. I felt sheepish at the time, but not scared. In retrospect, I was a total idiot for being so careless. here are a lot of government types who live in my building, as I'm so near to the UN. That carelessness is not something I wish to repeat!

I don't know what time it was when Pati started freaking out that she had left money at a bar on the Upper East Side. She said that she had left the bartender with a $100 tip and she suddenly wanted her money back. I know this sounds odd, but it was odd! Crys was heavily flirting with her, so he acted all concerned and volunteered to go back to that bar with her. They asked me if I wanted to come, but I was high and already home, so I turned them down. I told them to come back to my place when they were done. (I don't think I really expected them to comply though).

Once they left (and I think it was around 3:00 am), I felt anxious and kind of crappy. I checked out some blogs (my internet had magically been restored) and I paced around the apartment. I changed into jogging pants and a t-shirt and threw a shitload of things into a bag to take to Washington. I had no idea what I was packing, but it worked out okay in the end.

At around 4:30 am, they returned. To be honest, I'm shocked they were able to find the place again! They also had gotten $75 back from the bar. Again, I'm shocked that they were successful!

We brought out the tray again and continued to talk. Pati is a teacher in the Bronx. She's a major coke-head and just got out of a long term relationship with an abusive drug-dealer boyfriend. Crys moved to NY a month ago from South Carolina where he made his living as a Crystal Meth dealer. What the fuck??? It's a rare day that I'm the most sane and stable of the bunch! I felt like these people were both a lot more hard-core into drugs than I've ever been and it made me uncomfortable. The way they were talking, it was just out of my realm and I'm not looking to get into that.

Then things went from bizarre to insane. Crys started telling us that when he lived in SC someone set him up to live on a live-camera, only he could never find the cameras and didn't know where it was being broadcast. Why would someone do that to him, you ask? To fuck with his mind, of course! He told us that this thing got so huge that people everywhere knew him on the streets. He said that when he'd be watching Conan or Letterman on TV, the talk-show hosts themselves would comment on or respond to things Crys was doing in his home at that very minute. In other words, they could see him! (Can you say "drug-induced paranoia?") His story was so fucked up. He said that he moved to NY to get away from it and that he had even tried to kill himself.

"If they like watching my every move," he said, "how would they like watching that?"

I didn't know how to respond to any of this. Even high, and bonding with them on the stuff, I felt like I was hanging out with a lunatic. Pati was nice about it because he was all over her, and I guess she wanted to hook up.

"I believe you, but that's totally crazy!" she kept saying.

I kind of kept quiet on the whole thing.

The hours ticked by and I was on absolutely no sleep. At around 6:30 am I heard my alarm go off. (I had prudently set it the night before--before heading to Cheers). At 7:30 am, I did two final bumps and told them that I had to go. We all said our goodbyes. They both kept telling me how they had an "awesome" time. Crys said that he's so glad he finally made some good friends in NY. Whatever... It was an interesting night, but I'm not about to add either of them to my list of best friends.

Once they had gone, I fed my cat, grabbed my bag and got in a cab to the bus station. I felt the come-down start after only fifteen minutes. It was fucking torture. My lips were dry and my mouth was cotton. My eyes were red, puffy and dialated and I was drenched in sweat. I found my way to the Greyhound counter to get my ticket from will call. But even in my weakened state, I couldn't help but laugh at myself--all coked up at Port Authority at 8:00 am! I was a bad 1980's cliche.

Once I had my ticket I bought some water and gateorade and a bagel, but I just couldn't make myself eat. I tossed the bagel and drank as much as possible, all the while trying to convince myself that the hell would pass. At 8:30 I got on line for the bus. That was the worst. I was coming down in the most awful way and I had to stand there on line for half an hour. I just closed my eyes and willed myself to survive. Somehow I did. When I finally got on the bus, it was sweet relief just to be able to sit down, close my eyes and not to have to talk to anyone. I popped some codeine to kill the headache and the anxiety. In another hour or so, the worst of it had passed.

When I felt stable enough, I went to check my phone to see if I had sent any embarassing text messages the night before. I remembered having spoken to Bezoukhoff and Buke, but I didn't remember any of either of the conversations. Then I discovered one text there that I had no recollection of. It was, of course, to Narc. I told him that I was "thinking of him" and that I "missed him," and I asked him if he wanted to hang out before I went to CA. I couldn't deal with it at the time, so I put the phone down and figured I would sort through the events of the previous night a little bit later.

I didn't have a watch on, though, and at one point went to check my cell phone for the time. Much to my dismay, the phone wouldn't turn on! The crazy-glue hold up job I had done a few weeks ago had finally given way. My phone was dead. This, of course, sent me into a panic. How would I know if Narc texted me back? I couldn't call him to find out because that might appear "desperate" or "suffocating." On the other hand, what if he asked me to do something on Monday or Tuesday and I didn't answer him because I couldn't know!!! To make matters worse, the bus got stuck in some traffic and I couldn't call Hammer, or even know what time it was!

So, the bottom line--while my weekend in Washington was fabulous, it did not get off to a very good start.

To be continued...