Retracing My Steps
June 2nd, 2006This evening, I woke up in the passenger seat of a car going down Sunset Blvd. I had a huge drool spot on my right shoulder, and my girl Allison was driving. At first I thought I was drunk, but then I realized that I must have done some type of drug to be as incoherent as I was. I literally had no clue what had led up to being passed the fuck out in a car. Fuck, I had no clue what I had done for the past few days. The last memory that came to mind was my Memorial Day experience. Of course we hollered at Baja Fresh on the way back to my place, and by the time I was done not eating the nachos that I ordered, I had somehow reconstructed the last twenty-four hours (I concluded that the two days before that were boring). I will describe my thought process below, thus giving you the rundown of the madness that led up to regaining consciousness in the car.
First, I was not exaggerating when I said I had no clue what had happened. I literally didn’t know what day of the week it was, where I was, or what I had been doing all day. I consulted Allison for some answers, and I learned that I had been at an industry party in the afternoon.
That’s right, it was an industry party. A pre-party for a larger party at night that I obviously was not going to make it to. With this ammunition, I retraced my steps.
When did I leave? I was pretty unclear about that. The clock in the car said 7:15, so I must have left about half an hour before that, but how did I leave? My guess is staggering. How was I so fucked up? Oh yeah! The party was fucking awesome and they had a full bar. What was I drinking? Fuck! It was the Jager Bombs! Wait, no. Jager Bombs would not have made me pass out so early in the evening. Tequila? Perhaps. I remembered drinking something called an ‘Adios Motherfucker,’ which came recommended by the bartender. But it must have been something else. Was it the blow? I had most likely been doing some but I can usually hold my own. Ahh, then I remembered that it was the GHB-infused shots the bartenders were mixing up. Fuck, why did those seem like a good idea at the time, and why was everyone so excited about them?
Once I had the substance situation figured out (and the reason for being passed the fuck out and disoriented), it was only a matter of determining what the fuck had happened at the party. A lesser man would have just called someone or asked his coherent partner in crime, but I was in the mood to do things the hard way. I was trying to reconstruct the day’s events by retracing my steps.
I remembered that there was a pool and that the party was at a really huge house in the Hollywood Hills. I also remembered that the party contained all of the elements I consider necessary for a dope party: valet parking, full bar, catered food, pornstars, pornstars in the pool, and an ice luge. Was I swimming? I made the executive decision that I had not been swimming because I was not wet (other than the drool stain on my arm). Allison was quick to claim that I got a blowjob from a certain well-known pornstar in the pool but I have yet to confirm this story so I am going to go ahead and not brag about it quite yet. She also claimed that I made out with three older ladies and gave one oral favors in front of a crowd. I examined my pocket and noticed a bunch of business cards. Some were from females. Was Allison telling the truth, or was she lying like the time she said that she fucked Gary Coleman at an afterhours party?
One thing was for sure, the party was pretty fucking good, so I had probably had a pretty good time. I also probably did some business. With who? Probably the names on the business cards in my pocket. I will make some calls next week to put the pieces together. Some memories from the party came to mind. One was the food, which was really good. Another was going to the bathroom and feeling like I was going to puke, but then being really surprised when I did not. I also remembered being introduced to several people as ‘Fat Dick’ and having an extended conversation about real boobs vs. fake boobs with a friend who had just gotten her tits done.
But when did I arrive at the party? I did some quick calculations and determined that I had arrived between 1:30 and 2:00pm. Once I figured out when the madness at the party started, I was able to reconstruct the morning’s events. Wait, I woke up next to someone in the morning! Who was that and what had happened? I figured that all of this information had been clear to me when I actually woke up, but was somehow lost after the day’s events.
Ahh, and then I remembered who it was, what went on, and where it went on. But how did it start? I remembered returning to my place after last call and taking some beer bongs. Then I figured that I had probably done some drugs after that. What happened at the bar? Oh yeah, I started remembering something about heckling a really old guy, which was interesting because I thought he was going to kill me but I think he ended up wanting to have sex with me instead. I guess that is the effect that hot dance moves have on any situation.
I then tried to determine exactly how wasted I was upon leaving the bar. Jager Bombs at the bar came to mind. I recall buying several Jager Bombs, many of which were for people I did not know.
The pieces in the previous twenty-four hours were really coming together at this point. There was just one more thing to determine. How did the evening start? I recalled receiving the best gift ever (my new beer bong) from a friend and then breaking it in before heading out to the bars. I also recalled having a few Coronas and a couple Zimas before that. What a fucking night.
My head was pretty tired, but I had officially reconstructed the events that had occurred in a pretty crazy twenty-four hours. What a fucking afternoon, and what a fucking night before. That is true on so many levels.
So I am pretty worn out, and I truly wonder what this weekend holds for me.