The Drunken Boston Story

I was somewhere between Commonwealth Ave. (in Boston , MA ), on my way to a fast food joint, when I realized that I was way too drunk and on the verge to hallucinating. Normally, alcohol would not create monsters and stories and little creatures in the middle of the street, but today it was different. My mind was already switched into creative-mode – I was in a writing course then, and I was in need of a new story— so new characters and plots were turning around my mind. Alcohol was facilitating the process I guess, or better yet it was making things feel realistic.

I was walking and mumbling to myself, twirling and jumping, and occasionally crouching at the sight of a menacing passer-by, while screaming “La la laaaaaaaaa” until she was gone. You have to be damn careful in the US , a lot of crazies out-there, trying to get you. The street lamps, were bending all the way down my ear level, whispering: “Hey man, how ‘bout some weed? Come on man, let us in your secret story, we won’t tell,” and they would laugh, while I shook my hands like a maniac, shooing away the swarm of those blood-sucking insects.

I was looking at my feet, tracing my steps, while all of a sudden a giant bastard of a frog was standing in front of me. “Jesus Christ,” I shouted. “What the FUCK are you doing in the middle of the road man?”
“It’s a free country,” he said indifferently.
I could see I was busting his nuts for some reason or another but I couldn’t just walk away. So I knelt and stoop over him. “So whatcha doing?” I asked playfully and poked him a little.
“Hey fuck off, man.”
“Cool it, man. Didn’t mean to prowl on your business.”
“If you must know… [whispering] I’m not your sinking frog.”
“Oh!... Yeah… Of course. I knew that.”
“Ok now, get. You’re cramming up my style.”
“Yes, yes. Sure thing,” and I got up and left. A lady nearby was staring at me and then she fled, feigning something in her eye, rubbing it and other lies. She ran fast. “What was he doing talking to a leaf?” she must’ve thought. That’s what I mistook for a frog by the way, a d(r)ying leaf.

Soon enough I was standing outside the food shack. A loiterer, sitting by the door, shook his paper cup at me and the coins inside raped my eardrums like nothing else in my entire life. “For fuck’s sake, man. Don’t shake your money maker at me. I CANNOT TAKE IT RIGHT NOW! .... I’m sensitive.” He groaned. He was right. I was acting like a sick bastard.

I went inside, ordered a triple bacon cheeseburger with pickles and onions, fries and a giant cup of soda. I ate and went back home. The way back was more relaxed and pensive and I remember thinking that the alcohol buzz was floating away from us and we couldn’t have that so we needed to drink a lot more. ‘We’ meaning Me & I.

Once there, I ran up the stairs on the fourth floor and collapsed outside my room door, whizzing. I climbed up, using the door knob for crutches, unlocked and fell on my carpet again. After a minute or two, I opened my freezer and inside I found three water bottles with a sucking tit for the sports dudes, horizontally placed, half full with water (now ice), waiting to be filled with Jack Daniel’s. I grabbed one, filled it to the top with my trusty 2L bottle of JD and downed it immediately. I filled it again, since the ice was all there and took my time with this one. Sitting on the floor, with my back against the wall while singing Greek pirate songs about rum and women got me through the whole bottle. My next door neighbor was enjoying my singing too, because he was banging his fists on my wall in rhythm and he was screaming his own songs about exams or something. Crappy theme for a song if you ask me. But I will not judge my fellow man.

Anyway, after a while I felt paranoid and claustrophobic. The walls were closing in on me and I knew I had to escape. So I summoned the spirit of Michael Scofield from Prison Break. He urged me to fill a new sports bottle with Jack D. and ran for the door. He said: “It will be unlocked between now and the next five minutes or a week.” So I stormed out the door, with my whisky in hand, and started descending the stairs, fast, after which I tripped and rolled down a couple of flights. Thankfully I landed on my head on a girl’s door and stopped. After a terrified moment she opened her door and my head banged against her floor. She was wearing a bathrobe and was dripping wet. I was looking up her fanny. I started laughing insanely.

“What’s so funny you asshole?”
“Your fanny.”
“Oh, I’m funny am I?”
“HAHAHAHAHAAAA… No no, your fanny is funny. Not, you are funny.”

She then started kicking me out while I laughed even more. She wasn’t that upset in actual actuality. She knew I will be drunk by eight o’clock . And it was midnight . I crawled down the rest of the stairs on my hands and knees. I thought I’ll sit outside our building’s front door for a while, drink some more and breathe in some of that fresh air that everyone’s been menstruating about.

“This is illegal,” I said out loud. Drinking alcohol outside is illegal in the US Alex my boy, I thought. You have to put it in a paper bag like in the movies. But I didn’t have any of that. I’m getting paranoid. Nothing’s going to happen. Even if they do come, I’ll see their blue lights and head inside like a pussy. Then I felt like strolling down my street and back, just to see who’s up. “I’ll take you with me,” I said to my bottle. “Don’t worry baby. Nothing’s going to happen.” As I was walking down the street I could feel something was wrong but I was choking it away with quick sips of my “tea” and fake reassurances to myself that Everything’s OK.

Suddenly a police car turned into my street and headed my way. I was petrified. I stood still for a second panicking away. I’m going to jail, I thought. So I turned around, thinking I was not that far from my house, which I totally was, and I started running. I never ran so fast.
“Fuck it’s far.”

They turned on their siren and told me to stop. I didn’t stop of course. As they were gaining in on me I turned in a narrow alley, forcing them to go around the block and went for my back door. I was struggling with my keys and I barely made it in. They saw me entering but they mistook my door for the one next to it. Luckily, they all look alike.

I ran inside while I was entering a weirdly hilarious frenzy. It was a mixture of fear, panic and relief. I knew I made it. However, I ran up the stairs laughing and shouted at everybody that the police was after me and they should keep quiet. I was the only one shouting. I went into my bathroom and poured my whisky down the drain and buried the empty bottle in the garbage. Then headed right into my room, turned on the lights and turned them off instantly. I was still trying to control my laughter and sneaked a peek outside my window. There were six police cars, a fire truck and a helicopter flapping above our heads.

“Shit,” I screamed and I shushed myself. “Shhhhh!!!”
I was still very drunk and felt like vomiting from my non-stop laughter.
The police banged on the next building’s door.
“Open the door right now. This is the Police. We need to investigate the premises.”
In five minutes time they had all the residents outside on the parking lot, flat on their bellies, hands locked behind their heads.
“Oh man, that’s fucked up,” I said to my roommate. “Hahaha, and all because of me”.
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t. I was paranoid with fear and hatred for the cops.”

After an hour or so the police left, the neighbors were in their beds, probably terrified and/or angry, and I was “sobering up” over the sink; still laughing between the gushes of vomit.

*****

The next morning I woke up around noon and went outside. A couple of the neighboring guys were sitting on their front door steps and were talking. I passed them by and they were staring at me, smiling.

“Hey,” shouted one of them, “wait up.” He caught up with me. “Hey, are you the Runner?”
“Hehe, I might be.”
“Your roommate is in my class and he told me it was you, the dude with the bandana.”
“Well I guess I am him,” I said, smiling nervously.
“Hahaha. Hey guys, it’s him. You ROCK man. Last night was so funny.”

I laughed, said it was My pleasure and Any time, and walked away. I felt like a legend was born… but it wasn’t.

the end,

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