Sunday, February 05, 2006

messy confessional (a little late) (and in three parts)

This has probably been the toughest (and longest) week I've had since living in this city. It started out reasonably enough: some freelance work, some laundry and plans to meet up with some guys for happy hour on Tuesday.

Oh that Tuesday. MV told me a lot of the NY gay bloggerati would be around so I decided to join meatcute at the Townhouse (yes, THAT townhouse once again) to meet the meta-bunch. Ended up, Glennalicious was there, as well as Famous Author Rob Byrnes and others, but I don't have their links (yet). The plan was one drink and then back home to work on freelance stories. Then P bought a second round of drinks. Then this guy named Robert bought some drinks. Some shots were bought (I think) and I remember a fourth vodka gimlet in my hand before things got sketchy.

The story is either
a) these two men, both middle aged, well dressed and from out of town, flirted, convinced me to leave with them and I did.
b) I got it in my head that it would be a swell idea to introduce myself to two complete strangers who were eyeing me from across the room and tell them to take me home (this is meatcute's take on the night but I have my reservations for not supporting it).
c) a strange little alien crawled into my mouth during the night and was secretly operating my body as if it were me, but really I was some vessel for its ultimate plan to see how much a human could handle before he became inoperable.

In any case, I did end up in a car that took me to a run-down hotel room where my pants did come down and I was somehow worshipped for being moderately young, moderately hairless and fairly pliable. I don't think anything too sinister happened.

I hope.

I then ended up in a car that was driving me to a train station so I could get home. I was being obnoxious and not smart enough to ask the man driving me (who reminded me a little too much of my friend Crow) to actually drive me home which of course would have been a considerate and normal thing to do and favor for which to ask.

So I ended up on the 1 train around 50th street. Until I nearly got sick on me and the other passengers of the train. I rushed out and vomitted on the platform. The train left. I waited for the next one and quickly fell asleep.

I came too soon after and left the train when the doors opened. I walked out of the station, towards elevators. Until I suddenly remembered, My stop doesn't have elevators. I wasn't at home. Where was I? I wobbled, saw that it was 191st street. 75 blocks north or where I live. In fact it was my friend Ben's stop. Perhaps some unconscious part of me thought about all this and got me off before heading off to the Bronx. So I got on the next train downtown, didn't fall asleep and made it home.

This all happened before midnight. The next morning I needed to be up for a new temp job. Patricio was already in bed. He was not happy.

TO BE CONTINUED...

8 Comments:

At 5:06 AM, Blogger Guillem said...

I'm looking forward to parts 2 and 3!

And I think the story is option 3. It was that little alien's fault. And his name was Absolut.

 
At 8:08 AM, Blogger Dee said...

Girl.

 
At 8:51 AM, Blogger PatCH said...

Oh. Dear.

Next time you let us know your limits and we'll make sure you get poured into a cab and taken home safely, alien worms and all.

 
At 9:22 AM, Blogger dayone said...

Wait, am I watching a movie here?

 
At 6:20 AM, Anonymous Suz said...

You big tease! How long do I have to wait for parts 2 & 3? I gotta see how this ends...

 
At 9:23 AM, Blogger Nicole said...

As I began reading, I thought, "Hey! I think I had the exact same thing happen to me!". ...but only up to the 12th line of this post. Thank goodness.

The gay NY digirati works hard/ plays hard. I guess I should have warned you...

 
At 12:43 PM, Anonymous bryce said...

I woke up in Coney Island once without my wallet. I think it happened about 6 months after I moved here. I felt so violated. I feel for you.

 
At 8:41 PM, Blogger Jerry said...

limits? limits? who knows one's own limits? What are limits but boundaries meant to be crossed. In fact, I used to be a seasoned vodka drinker but, alas, I am now but a poor wayward soul...MUST have been absolut. My dear Ketel would never have treated me so harshly...

 

Post a Comment

<< Home