“Time travel is real!” I protest over a mostly filled amber colored liquid concoction. It is my version of a hot toddy: whisky, honey, hot water and lemon juice. I didn’t have any cloves so I just left those out. The liquid almost spills over the lip of the large mug as I bang my fist on the table.
Everyone laughs. We are all drunk, but I am on my soap box now. I choose to forgo my scientific reasoning of relativity to a more comical stance, “I time travel every time I blackout, at least from what I can remember…”
The room explodes. One kid even spits out his drink onto the linoleum tile floor, already dirtied with late winter shoe prints and food crumbs. What’s a little stickiness added to the mix?
As the night grows long we all get a little more sloppy and a lot more excitable. One friend nostalgically takes over the music, rapidly blowing through songs before they are finished. I hate that, yet I am the same way at times. I try to make a mental note to not do that anymore but, as they say, old habits die hard.
Eventually a song gets played that I just have to dance to. My chair goes flying from under me and I grab the closest hand I can find. We swing around the living room, clapping and singing into each others eyes. I can feel my cheeks are red with drink as my shoulders dictate how my head bobs to the beat of something from my past.
Suddenly my mind is brought to a time in my youth when I first started getting into music. I am sitting in the back of my mother’s station wagon, watching her dance with her hands as we travel down the road. I can’t remember where we are headed but I recall it was warm outside and the windows were down. I stick my hand out the window to mimic her dancing in the wind that skims the long grey car. I close my eyes. The memory makes me smile with my whole face.
Tomorrow I won’t remember this moment. We will all comment on how much fun we had and promise do it all again the following weekend, trying to relive that feeling of pure bliss. It’s like a perfect moment in time where the past and the present merge in optimism for the future.
“Time travel is soooo real…” I say to myself again.