the worst hangover I never had
Getting hit by an 40 ton semi-truck hurts; in fact, you feel like you’re going to die, like at any moment your body is going to give up on you, and you’re going to fall to the ground doubled over in a burning, aching, queasiness. Most of you have probably experienced this in terms of a-little-too-much-fun-last-night-hangover however, these are not the circumstances under which I have met this fate. Instead, it was spending a second night in the car.
Apparently, one night is okay, but two is intolerable. There must be something to be said about the quality of sleep one gets rather than the quantity. It’s pretty evident, having slept in a real bed last night, that 8 hours of quality sleep in a comfortable bed is better than an infinite amount of sleep in the back of your car. In case, you were thinking about traveling out of your car, jsut know that you probably won’t be able to stand it several consecutive nights in a row. Somehow, even camping under the stars is better.
At this point, I’m writing in retrospect, so I’m only going to talk about the things I remember — as if I could write about things that I didn’t remember. I had been doing a thing in LA, where I would go to le pain quotidienne as soon as it opened. I would order a decaf cappuccino and an omelette, sit at a 4 person table by myself, and work on my computer for hours. There’s something medicinal about the ritual, so I did it two days in a row. The second day, there was an almost completely different staff.
My waitress was a beautiful Persian woman who was a graduate design student. I was immediately intruiged. I think that’s how most of my attraction begins; I’m caught off guard by someone’s bizarre or striking demeanor. Anyway, the hopeless romantic in me had to try to get coffee with her, so I struck up a conversation with her, but didn’t get the opportunity to get her number.
Then I got this idea, “hey, why not just write a nice little message on the tab?” So I did. Really, something happened in my brain — maybe the little romantic French man in my head finally revealed himself or maybe she was just that captivating.
She seemed pretty into me, but she never texted. Too bad, but I got the next best thing, dinner with good friends. And it was at a place where we could stuff our faces with practically as much sea food as we could eat.
After dinner, I met up with some other friends, and we set out to wreak havoc. Instead, I got a freaking flour shower.
I have no words to say except to trust no one, under any circumstances. I believe strongly now — more than ever before — that in this rough, barren world we inhabit, the only person we can trust is ourselves. In the end of the day, trusting is relinquishing power, and the lack of power is weakness. For some people, that weakness is worth the sacrifice, for others not so much.
War is war, my friends, and ain’t nothing gonna change that.
