It was almost four o'clock on Monday morning when Louis woke up in the complete darkness of Fred's bathroom. The first things he noticed was that his head was spinning wildly and and he was immediately seized by the overpowering, acrid stench of fresh vomit. Louis was completely disorientated. As he tried to sit up, he put his hand down on the floor by his side and found that he had placed it in something cold and slimy. Louis slowly began to realize where he was and how he had come to be in this particular situation, although the details remained fuzzy. His head was swimming as he reached up to pick of partially digested chicken wing out of his hair. The first thing he saw when he reached up to turn on the light was the slowly congealing pool of stomach juice, blue cheese dressing and chicken skin where his head had been resting only inches from the base of the toilet and all its many weeks worth of accumulated filth.
Louis felt the familiar sensations of dizziness and nausea as he made his way into the living room and collapsed on the the sofa, giving no thought to what he might be tracking in with him from the bathroom. Cold beads of sweat had already begun to accumulate on his forehead from the exertion. Fred's dog Maggie, a happy but very drooly boxer, awakened by the activity in the living room, trotted over and began voraciously licking the previous night's meal off of Louis's soiled bluejeans. Louis weakly tried to push the dog away, but with such delicacies to be slurped off of Louis's cloths, there was nothing that would deter the dog. Doing his best to suppress a new bout of retching, Louis choked back the acidy liquid, slumped back in his seat and began slowly piecing together the previous nights events.
Louis had just finished helping his friend Justin move from his 13th floor luxury apartment into a gritty little hovel on Ash St that he would be sharing with his buddy Todd. Justin had been completely unprepared for his friends who had graciously offered to help him out, so Fred and Louis ended up spending much more time helpng out than they had ever anticipated. They hurried over to Hooters on Colorado Blvd but did not make it quite in time for the Superbowl's opening kickoff. Louis arrived in a fowl mood. Justin's lack of preparation had irritatd him and he was upset that he was late for the start of the game. In payment for all his hard work, Justin filled up an empty 12 oz bottle of Aquafina with some old vodka he dug out of the back of one of his cupboards.
Louis took his vodka and headed for Hooters. When the scantily clad waitress came to the table for the first time to take his order, Louis grabbed the bottle off of the table and and hid it between his legs. He couldn't possibly have acted any more guilty for somwbody with an Aquafina bottle sitting next to them filled with a clear liquid. The waitress even called him out on it and had him bring the bottle out to show her. He told her that it was just water, so she of course let him slide. At the time I didn't even realize that it was filled with vodka, but thought it very strange teh way he had behaved with the waitress.
Our table ordered several dozen wings in a wide variety of flavors ranghing from Three Mile Island to Cajun and we all dug in, Louis especially. He was on the Adkins Diet at the time so he felt obliged to eat as much as he possibly could. Wings are all fat and protien after all and he of course would be forgoing on desert. Before long, Louis had single-handledly polished off about 30 or so wings and drumsticks. His personal favorite was the teriaki. All the while he made steady progress on his bottle of vodka, taking regular slugs. However, Louis did did not limit himself to just the vodka. He went through several mugs of beer, as well. There was no question, Louis was in a mood to party tonight!
The Pittsburgh Steelers looked like the stronger team through the first half of the game, but as the game wore on, Kurt Warner and his scrappy Arizona Cardinals began to show some serious sigs of life. They eventually took the lead and looked as though they may pull off a huge upset. By this time, however, the Vodka was gone Louis was well on his way to losing most of his facalties and thus was not really getting much out of the game. He was slurring badly and was having more and more trouble focusing. It was at this time that I made the decision to buy a round of shots. They were out of Rumpleminze so I picked Jaegermeister instead. Louis downed it like a champ as I knew he would. I knew he had already had far too much to drink, but I couldn't resist the mischeivous temptation to push the envelope just a little bit more, sort of like a science experiment. I knew better. I knew it was the wrong thing to do. I knew this could well be the straw that broke the camels back, but for some reason I did it anyway.
It wasn't long before the results became apparent. Louis was over the edge. He began to break out in a drenching sweat and burried his face in his hands on the table. He no longer seemed interested in eating anymore wings. For Louis, that is possibly the truest sign of distress. Most of us didn't pay too much attention to him as the football game we were watching was turing out to be one heck of a great game and the excitement in the room grew.
So wouldn't you know it, less than a minute to go in the game, the Cardinals are clinging to the lead, but the Steelers are mounting what could be a game winning drive and Louis looks over and tugs on my shirt asking to be helped outside so that he can rest in the car. I looked at him incredulously and told him that he was crazy. and that he didn't want to miss the end of the game. But I could see it in his eyes that he was in serious distress. One of our other friends, Brian, took him by the other arm and we helped him out of the resturant and out to his car on the street. He knew that somebody else would be driving his car for him later, but he just wanted to rest in the back seat. When we got him out near the car, Louis assured us that he would be fine, and Brian an I returned to watch the end of the game. I later admonished Louis for turning the car on and having the headlights on while parked on the street and passed out in the back seat. My understanding is that a police officer could possibly get him on a DUI just for being alone in a running vehicle. Fortunately, we got out there before any officers happened upon him.
By the time we were taking him back to Fred's house, Louis had become incoherent and was drifting in and out of sleep. Louis's recollections ended at just about this time although as he sat on the couch that morning he tried very hard to remember anything else that might have taken place. Soon it dawned on him that he had to be at work in an hour. He stood up to get ready, but made it only a couple of steps before he realized that he would be having to call in and take a sick day. There was no way in the world that he was going to make it into the office this morning.
Thinking back later that day, searching for an excuse for what had happened, Louis decided conclusively that he must have contracted food poisoning from something that he had eaten. He rationalized that since he had never thrown up from drinking before, that that could not have possibly have been the reason this time either. He asked all the rest of us who were there if we had gotten sick as well, and seemed almost disappointed to find out that none of us had gotten anything worse than a mild case of heartburn.
I'm happy to report that it didn't take Louis long to get back on his horse and get back out there to the bars and taverns. Although from now on he will be making extra sure that his wings are cooked all the way through.
Congratulations to the Pittsburgh Steelers who did indeed score on that final drive.
It wasn't long before the results became apparent. Louis was over the edge. He began to break out in a drenching sweat and burried his face in his hands on the table. He no longer seemed interested in eating anymore wings. For Louis, that is possibly the truest sign of distress. Most of us didn't pay too much attention to him as the football game we were watching was turing out to be one heck of a great game and the excitement in the room grew.
So wouldn't you know it, less than a minute to go in the game, the Cardinals are clinging to the lead, but the Steelers are mounting what could be a game winning drive and Louis looks over and tugs on my shirt asking to be helped outside so that he can rest in the car. I looked at him incredulously and told him that he was crazy. and that he didn't want to miss the end of the game. But I could see it in his eyes that he was in serious distress. One of our other friends, Brian, took him by the other arm and we helped him out of the resturant and out to his car on the street. He knew that somebody else would be driving his car for him later, but he just wanted to rest in the back seat. When we got him out near the car, Louis assured us that he would be fine, and Brian an I returned to watch the end of the game. I later admonished Louis for turning the car on and having the headlights on while parked on the street and passed out in the back seat. My understanding is that a police officer could possibly get him on a DUI just for being alone in a running vehicle. Fortunately, we got out there before any officers happened upon him.
By the time we were taking him back to Fred's house, Louis had become incoherent and was drifting in and out of sleep. Louis's recollections ended at just about this time although as he sat on the couch that morning he tried very hard to remember anything else that might have taken place. Soon it dawned on him that he had to be at work in an hour. He stood up to get ready, but made it only a couple of steps before he realized that he would be having to call in and take a sick day. There was no way in the world that he was going to make it into the office this morning.
Thinking back later that day, searching for an excuse for what had happened, Louis decided conclusively that he must have contracted food poisoning from something that he had eaten. He rationalized that since he had never thrown up from drinking before, that that could not have possibly have been the reason this time either. He asked all the rest of us who were there if we had gotten sick as well, and seemed almost disappointed to find out that none of us had gotten anything worse than a mild case of heartburn.
I'm happy to report that it didn't take Louis long to get back on his horse and get back out there to the bars and taverns. Although from now on he will be making extra sure that his wings are cooked all the way through.
Congratulations to the Pittsburgh Steelers who did indeed score on that final drive.
1 comment:
Yes, as much as I'd like to blame food poisoning...it was foolishness and stupidity on my part. As on last note...lucky to have good friends who didn't let me rot. When all is said and done the only victim was pillows/cloths and Fred's couch. But I'm fully recovered and ready to go lighter!
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