I've a love/hate relationship with booze. I love it, it hates me. It must do, the things it does to me.
Like the time a bottle of that strong stuff folk bring back from holidays made me hyper, scared a girlfriend with that and my manic attempts to hide in the kitchen cupboards.
Or the habit it fostered in me. Of travelling home on the train with a hot chocolate held above my lap, so that if I nodded off after a few too many glasses of sleepy juice I'd scald myself awake. Too many nights after a beverage I'd fall alseep on the train you see.
One time I found myself at a train station so far from home I was resigned to not making it back, but figured I could made the journey cheaper the next day by starting to walk to the next station while I was awake. Ripped my trousers walking along the tracks in the night, and then turned out I was walking the wrong direction anyway.Nicked some paper from a newsagents early delivery and made camp on the station. Scared the early commuters shitless when the train pulled in and the pile of refuse exploded into a vaguely human shape.
Another time I woke up after I should have gotten off. A nice chap enquired what I was going to do. Sleep at the station I s'pose. He said that'd kill me, it was cold an all, offered me his sofa. What a nice chap. Had a car waiting at the station. He told the cab driver he was an actor, recently divorced. Inside, he offered me a cuppa and toast, asked if I liked films. Said sure, I'd just seen Braveheart. No no, he added for clarity, blue films... It was at that point I blacked out. My mind returned to me about noon the next day. I was at work. The others said I'd walked in, not said anything and just started working and out that down to me being me. Checked myself, had a train ticket that for the life of me I couldn't see how I'd got to it from where I had been, but didn't show any signs of being buggered so I've ever taken that as meaning nothing untoward happened. :s
I was drinking a fair bit for years. Not frequently,but when the occasion arose I'd kinda make up for lost time. Would use it as a means to get over my inhibitions. Friends of that time remember me most as standing on the edge of the dance floor, not quite ready to cut loose, a double vodka in each hand.
The thing that stopped all that. At a pub, I got lucky with a girl I had fancied for years. Ended up at hers. Course, my blackout occured way before that, I didn't even remember us getting familiar at the pub. When I became conscious we were chatting on her sofa. Next night, I apologised for what I thought was presumptious behaviour in getting myself a night on her sofa. She must have throught I was backpedaling and apologising for letting anything occur, avoided me after that. So that was it for me and getting drunk. What's the point of it lowering inhibitions and making things happen, if you can't ruddy remember any of it. Pfsh.
