It all started with a cop bringing me breakfast...
April 15. Tax Day.
An average day, or so one might think. It’s Friday afternoon, I’ve come home from work, and I’m looking forward to an evening of doing very little.
Or so I thought.
After getting my obligatory Friday afternoon social calls out of the way, I try to call back a neighbor whom we’ll call Lady Wine. Twice this week, I’ve gotten messages from her to call back, but every time I try to, her line is busy. Around 6 or so, I decide I’ll wander back down there to see what’s up. We shoot the breeze for a while, with Lady Wine suckin’ down her wine like a pro. I’ve had a relatively sickly week, and decide I really don’t want to drink a whole lot, so half an hour and a bottle of water later, I’m on the couch with my evening newspaper and my book, ready to veg on the couch until 10, when I can crawl in bed and get a great night sleep…
After about 8 pages, I get a call from my dear, sweet, flaming gay neighbor-friend, Vodka And A Splash Of Soda. VodkaSoda has had a difficult week of unemployment and wants to vent about his most recent trauma. Apparently, due to his FOURTH DWI, VodkaSoda is not allowed to renew his lease. Of course, feeling sympathetic, I invited him over to hang out until his newest boyfriend came to pick him up and take him to the Gay Bars. Not thirty minutes after that, Lady Wine gives me call because she is livid about her paycheck… apparently it wasn’t as much as it should have been.
Eight o’clock, and grudgingly, I realize I’ve got instant party in my living room.
Roughly Eight Forty-Five. Lady Wine and VodkaSoda decide my alcohol supply is simply insufficient, so they make a power hike over to Spec’s (the largest liquor store in North America is Two blocks from Xanadu….) and pick up some vodka and mixers. On the way back they found KT, my favorite kindergarten teacher slash neighbor, and the party really was on.
Nine Fifteen. I play bartender for a while, and mix up a pretty snazzy batch of beverages… Vodka, cranberry, pineapple, splash of lemon-lime club soda… It’s a hellafied beverage, if I do say so myself. I had exactly one and a half. Not even a half, really. It seems, that while KT and I were holding a civilized conversation over the course of MAYBE twenty minutes, Lady Wine and VodkaSoda had killed the ENTIRE bottle of vodka. They were mixing their own drinks… half was my pre-made (and delicious) concoction in a glass, the other half straight vodka. Damn.
Ten o’clock. Being the terminal party fouler and geek that I am, start warning everyone that when this clock strikes at Eleven, and then I’m going to bed. Lady Wine is several sheets to the wind at this point, as is VodkaSoda. In fact, Lady Wine gets a little weird because she keeps asking, “Who is that?” “Who is that?” And she’s referring to ME! It was definitely time for Lady Wine to go home and go to bed.
Ten Thirty. Lady Wine and VodkaSoda slosh out of the apartment, and KT and I are wondering if perhaps we should walk them home. Nah, we figured. They’re professional drunkards. They’ll be JUST FINE. We giggled at them a little. They were both pretty wasted, but this was normal for both of them. The plastered leading the plastered… no big deal.
Again, or so I thought.
Not five minutes later, I get a frantic phone call from VodkaSoda. I had no idea what he was saying; I just heard words like “fell” and “garage” and “emergency”interspersed with random obscenities… I ran out to the garage, only to find Lady Wine lying on the ground of the parking garage, whimpering, her hair a bit matted with blood. Apparently, Lady Wine was having a difficult time walking from my building to her building, and fell and hit her head on the concrete. When I got there, VodkaSoda was screaming incoherently at 911, something about, “Oh, who cares what the cross street is, just get here…” I took the phone away from him, said to the operator, “Tell me what information you need.” The operated released an audible sigh of relief and quietly uttered, “oh, thank god...”
Ten Forty Five. Props to the Houston EMS. Not four minutes after I hung up with 911, we heard a fire truck coming around the corner. They came in to the garage and started attending to Lady Wine, who was still verrrrrry intoxicated and only semi-coherent.
Eleven ish? Lady Wine is all bundled up and ready to go to the hospital. KT drives, and the three of us follow the ambulance to the hospital.
Eleven fifteen. We meet up with Lady Wine at the ER, but are banished from her side by the Triage Nazi. All three of us must wait in the waiting room. Before we trudge out, the EMTs are sniffing around KT (who is exceptionally HOT, btw) and trying to figure out exactly how wasted their newest patient is… I think I heard a pool being established on Lady Wine’s BAC…
Eleven thirty. Finally, we are allowed back to see our friend. Unfortunately, there is a two guest maximum. KT and I decide to take turns hanging out back there after the irritated nurse bitched at us a couple times. After about five minutes, I went to go find KT, who was on the phone. She said she come trade out with me as soon as she’s off.
Eleven Forty Five. KT comes to trade with me. For a nanosecond, there are three of us behind the curtain. In response, the uber-bitch nurse calls security and has KT and I removed.
Yup. I got kicked out of an Emergency Room while pretty much damn near stone cold sober on a Friday night.
Midnight. KT and I laugh it off, and leave the hospital. KT knows VodkaSoda will be calling her in a bit anyways, looking for a way home. KT will head back after Lady Wine gets released. But WHAT THE HELL? The two SOBER people just got kicked out the hospital, while drunk-ass Lady Wine lies whimpering in bed with her drunker-ass companion VodkaSoda tries to soothe her and picks on the nursing staff about having to try twice to draw blood.
We figure the hospital made their choice. Let them deal with it. I’m going to bed.
And THAT, dear Forty, is why all the lights were on, the door was unlocked, and there were drinks scattered everywhere when you got home.
An average day, or so one might think. It’s Friday afternoon, I’ve come home from work, and I’m looking forward to an evening of doing very little.
Or so I thought.
After getting my obligatory Friday afternoon social calls out of the way, I try to call back a neighbor whom we’ll call Lady Wine. Twice this week, I’ve gotten messages from her to call back, but every time I try to, her line is busy. Around 6 or so, I decide I’ll wander back down there to see what’s up. We shoot the breeze for a while, with Lady Wine suckin’ down her wine like a pro. I’ve had a relatively sickly week, and decide I really don’t want to drink a whole lot, so half an hour and a bottle of water later, I’m on the couch with my evening newspaper and my book, ready to veg on the couch until 10, when I can crawl in bed and get a great night sleep…
After about 8 pages, I get a call from my dear, sweet, flaming gay neighbor-friend, Vodka And A Splash Of Soda. VodkaSoda has had a difficult week of unemployment and wants to vent about his most recent trauma. Apparently, due to his FOURTH DWI, VodkaSoda is not allowed to renew his lease. Of course, feeling sympathetic, I invited him over to hang out until his newest boyfriend came to pick him up and take him to the Gay Bars. Not thirty minutes after that, Lady Wine gives me call because she is livid about her paycheck… apparently it wasn’t as much as it should have been.
Eight o’clock, and grudgingly, I realize I’ve got instant party in my living room.
Roughly Eight Forty-Five. Lady Wine and VodkaSoda decide my alcohol supply is simply insufficient, so they make a power hike over to Spec’s (the largest liquor store in North America is Two blocks from Xanadu….) and pick up some vodka and mixers. On the way back they found KT, my favorite kindergarten teacher slash neighbor, and the party really was on.
Nine Fifteen. I play bartender for a while, and mix up a pretty snazzy batch of beverages… Vodka, cranberry, pineapple, splash of lemon-lime club soda… It’s a hellafied beverage, if I do say so myself. I had exactly one and a half. Not even a half, really. It seems, that while KT and I were holding a civilized conversation over the course of MAYBE twenty minutes, Lady Wine and VodkaSoda had killed the ENTIRE bottle of vodka. They were mixing their own drinks… half was my pre-made (and delicious) concoction in a glass, the other half straight vodka. Damn.
Ten o’clock. Being the terminal party fouler and geek that I am, start warning everyone that when this clock strikes at Eleven, and then I’m going to bed. Lady Wine is several sheets to the wind at this point, as is VodkaSoda. In fact, Lady Wine gets a little weird because she keeps asking, “Who is that?” “Who is that?” And she’s referring to ME! It was definitely time for Lady Wine to go home and go to bed.
Ten Thirty. Lady Wine and VodkaSoda slosh out of the apartment, and KT and I are wondering if perhaps we should walk them home. Nah, we figured. They’re professional drunkards. They’ll be JUST FINE. We giggled at them a little. They were both pretty wasted, but this was normal for both of them. The plastered leading the plastered… no big deal.
Again, or so I thought.
Not five minutes later, I get a frantic phone call from VodkaSoda. I had no idea what he was saying; I just heard words like “fell” and “garage” and “emergency”interspersed with random obscenities… I ran out to the garage, only to find Lady Wine lying on the ground of the parking garage, whimpering, her hair a bit matted with blood. Apparently, Lady Wine was having a difficult time walking from my building to her building, and fell and hit her head on the concrete. When I got there, VodkaSoda was screaming incoherently at 911, something about, “Oh, who cares what the cross street is, just get here…” I took the phone away from him, said to the operator, “Tell me what information you need.” The operated released an audible sigh of relief and quietly uttered, “oh, thank god...”
Ten Forty Five. Props to the Houston EMS. Not four minutes after I hung up with 911, we heard a fire truck coming around the corner. They came in to the garage and started attending to Lady Wine, who was still verrrrrry intoxicated and only semi-coherent.
Eleven ish? Lady Wine is all bundled up and ready to go to the hospital. KT drives, and the three of us follow the ambulance to the hospital.
Eleven fifteen. We meet up with Lady Wine at the ER, but are banished from her side by the Triage Nazi. All three of us must wait in the waiting room. Before we trudge out, the EMTs are sniffing around KT (who is exceptionally HOT, btw) and trying to figure out exactly how wasted their newest patient is… I think I heard a pool being established on Lady Wine’s BAC…
Eleven thirty. Finally, we are allowed back to see our friend. Unfortunately, there is a two guest maximum. KT and I decide to take turns hanging out back there after the irritated nurse bitched at us a couple times. After about five minutes, I went to go find KT, who was on the phone. She said she come trade out with me as soon as she’s off.
Eleven Forty Five. KT comes to trade with me. For a nanosecond, there are three of us behind the curtain. In response, the uber-bitch nurse calls security and has KT and I removed.
Yup. I got kicked out of an Emergency Room while pretty much damn near stone cold sober on a Friday night.
Midnight. KT and I laugh it off, and leave the hospital. KT knows VodkaSoda will be calling her in a bit anyways, looking for a way home. KT will head back after Lady Wine gets released. But WHAT THE HELL? The two SOBER people just got kicked out the hospital, while drunk-ass Lady Wine lies whimpering in bed with her drunker-ass companion VodkaSoda tries to soothe her and picks on the nursing staff about having to try twice to draw blood.
We figure the hospital made their choice. Let them deal with it. I’m going to bed.
And THAT, dear Forty, is why all the lights were on, the door was unlocked, and there were drinks scattered everywhere when you got home.
posted by Flipside at 12:06 AM
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