The night that I am on the verge of recalling was a rather traumatic one and possibly even more traumatic for me to have to recount. As I begin typing there is one ultimate question on my mind: does alcohol magnify ones personality? For example, on a day to day basis little things irritate you; you’ve even snapped a pencil in frustration once or twice. Subsequently when you’ve consumed alcohol you turn into a raging beast and wake up the next day with bruised knuckles from all the faces you’ve been obliterating in the heat of your wrath. I myself do not fall under this category, but if this statement rings true, I may as well lock myself in my room as soon as possible and throw away the key.
Initially the night was labelled “a few drinks and last bus home” but when is a few drinks just a few drinks? My situation wasn’t helped by the chosen establishment. I’ve always hated entering said pub without the haze of intoxication to protect my senses from the grime and general dirty nature of the place. To add to this, the gentleman who had invited me along had been drinking for hours before hand and his behaviour was reflecting it. These combined aspects put me under pressure and so I began to drink with an agenda to get as drunk as quickly as I could.
The reason we were there was because there were bands playing and my friend knew one of these bands. They were to take to the stage further on in the night and therefore when the time came I was suitably drunk to bop along and cheer whenever a song finished. During the time spent inside watching the bands perform a certain female was attracting rather a lot of attention. I’d seen her previously that night attempting to grind against a bearded gentleman who effectively ended up on the other side of the room. At this point she was at the front of the crowd accompanied by a few other ladies, clearly intoxicated and having the time of their lives, at the same time obstructing any view my 5ft frame was capable of having.
After the scheduled entertainment had come to an end, we were left to our own devices; this device namely being alcohol. Unfortunately for me alcohol seems to being having a certain undesired effect on me lately. A certain effect that makes me boorish and judgemental topped off by being ungraciously honest, drowning myself in words that should remain unsaid. The reality of how harsh they are doesn’t seem to register. The connection between my brain and any feeling of sympathy tends to flood with alcohol and ceases to function; even the reactions and expressions of others fails to unite the severed link. It can now be understood why my preliminary question is cause for concern. It also raises the more daunting question of whether or not it is the level of alcohol I consume that is the issue, or whether a whole revamp of my personality is in order.
Fortunately most of my memories are so diluted that they can barely be recalled at all. Either that or the events that occurred that night are so distressing that I have repressed them. Whatever the case may be, I’m glad; simply having my antics described by a second party is enough to make me want to stick a knife in my face.
After the momentum of the mayhem began trundling downhill, my memory seems to kick in again and we were now on our way to the cab office. We herded along the high street, making a quick stop to get money as we headed towards the kebab shop. For the first time since my kebab obsession began I actually sat inside to consume my food. Being stationary whilst eating made the likelihood of covering my clothes with food that much less inevitable. We all managed to leave in one piece and continued on our way. Regrettably there was one thing we all managed to neglect: cabs cost money. Even during our stop at the cash point our minds were so focused on the meaty goodness we were about to purchase that no one thought about the journey home we were yet to take. Therefore we spent a considerable amount of time counting out our change. At first we were doing well; the majority of the coins we’d gathered were 1 and 2 pound coins. But then we were moving on to 50ps and 20ps until we eventually had enough. It was essential at this point to make sure that none of the money was dropped as we were fucked if we would have to count it all again. I’m thankful that I got out of the cab before the fare was given.
We took refuge in the 24 hour HSBC, where we discovered a homeless. I was later informed that he was entertaining himself with some light reading. His selection was a bit odd; he’d chosen to read the TV guide. He greeted us all politely as we entered, keeping himself to himself as we all gathered in his temporary bedroom. I would have expected some kind of attempted conversation but he didn’t pester us in the slightest. He bid us goodnight as we left though and got back to discovering what programmes he’d be missing out on this week.
I wish I had an answer for the proposed question I started with, but I do not. There is no enlightening conclusion that will inspire you to make a profound change in your opinion on alcohol or life and for this I apologise. And as my 21st blog ends, can I say I have matured and become more responsible throughout the time I have been writing? No, no I cannot. In fact I believe I’ve become more reckless. I can only hope that my recklessness becomes more constructive in the coming weeks in order to aid me in producing far more interesting posts.
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