live in the drinkinest town around… Hatboro. Everyone
parties way too hard, for way too long. It has one of
the highest bars to people ratio I’ve ever seen…
and I don’t mean, “Indeed, that was a refreshing
snifter of brandy, old chum!” type of places. I
mean “I think that fucking old guy that’s
passed out on the floor just shit his pants!!” type
places. That’s why I love it here sometimes.
cold air viciously whipped against my face as I quickly
strode through the center of town. There was no time for
pleasantries, as there were things that needed to be done.
I had a pack of wolves back at my bar, howling and baying
at the moon, waiting to tear everything I loved dearly
to pieces. Sometimes you don’t throw a party, it
throws you. It reaches a certain point where you no longer
control it, and the beast needs to be fed. These are the
high impact times, the sensory overloads, the dangerous,
scary times… the times that I thrive off of.
is a certain freedom that accompanies completely handing
yourself over to being helplessly intoxicated, and the
asylum now residing in my apartment was a byproduct of
stepped into the bar as all eyes turned. “Outsider”
I could almost hear the chorus of their thoughts mutter.
There will always be the two classes of drunks, the ones
that maintain and shine brightly, and the ones that crash
and burn. This bar was full of the latter and having the
former walk through the doors just reminds them of who
they have become. I closed the door as slowly as I possibly
could and walked up to the bar like I owned it. If one’s
not careful in a predicament like this, a friendly jaunt
down to the corner bar to get six packs can turn deadly
in 3 seconds flat.
eyed the grizzled bartender and loudly demanded several
six packs. He limped over to me and plopped the beers
on the bar holding out his clammy, calloused hand. From
the corner of my eye I could see an old woman had vomited
into her colostomy bag and several games of darts had
started to turn ugly. The faces surrounding me were hideous
caricatures of human emotion, closing in on me, screaming,
laughing… menacing. It was heating up in here, and
it was time for me to take my leave.
the confines of the filthy, sweaty tavern, I commenced
on my walk home. Strange things were in the air. Cars,
belching flames from their exhausts, screeched as they
darted and raced down the lonely streets, screams from
parties and from fights echoed across the void.
beer was more of an afterthought. I had recently taken
a liking to whiskey and water. There was something charming
in its simplicity and in its skull crushing ability to
get me wasted. I couldn’t shake the feeling that
I had had all night. The feeling of dread, of emptiness.
Everything tonight came back to it… that awful,
awful familiar feeling.
braced myself as I approached the threshold of my apartment.
One can never be too careful before walking into a situation
that could turn hostile. Everything seemed under control.
Music blasted from the speakers and people drunkenly screamed
over it to each other. I threw the sixes in the fridge
and brought one out for Jen. I had so much catching up
June 16th, 2005