As with any other day, this one started at some point.
Aside from that useful factoid, I remember very little of that day prior to the evening. There may very well have been something interesting, but I think it was mostly just filled with appreciating Norwegian cuisine and all-you-can-drink water.
Or at least it
would be, if the water dispenser had been fixed. Which it hadn't.
Anyways, evening. The school was positively buzzing with excitement at an opportunity to consume all their hard-bought Cuban rum, and also to make the most out of what was to be the last school party. This was also a chance to end the near-drought of ten days spent in Cuba under a teetotaler rule (I say
near-drought, as these students were remarkably resourceful when it came to consuming alcohol on the sly).
You might even say that some people were a little
too excited about drinking, as at least one noted individual cracked open a six-pack the instant he sat down on the bus.
Mind you, this meant that he was technically drinking on school property, and could've been kicked out for it. But none of the other revelers felt particularly inclined to point him out to the authorities, luckily enough.
We eventually made our way to the party place, which happened to be the same spot as the last party. This was the first time during the entire school year where we had been allowed to rent out the same place, and it was a close call at that.
If you recall, our last outing to this location had resulted in a dislodged vent, some mangled electrical wiring, and someone hiding a piece of the coffee machine. Not to mention a few disturbed neighbors, and the fact that we had utterly failed to follow the one rule of turning the music off (down) after 1 AM.
The landlady had been rather upset with us, but after we had taken a couple rounds of collection to pay for the damages, and after the spokesperson of the committee had worked his ineffable charms on her, she agreed to take a different viewpoint. She still wasn't particularly happy, but she decided to forgive us enough that we could come back again. The committee urged us to respect her kindness and be a bit more careful this time around.
This, of course, had about the same level of effectiveness as telling a pebble to do sit-ups. I'm still not entirely sure who took that door off its hinges, but I seriously doubt that the landlady was too happy about the impromptu renovation when she found out about it...
The evening started like any other, with people immediately spreading out to find some place to claim as a sleeping reservation. I scouted out a couple spots in the hopes of finding a nice, secluded little area, but every time I found someplace, there was already a sleeping bag laid out in preparation. But, once my head started working, I remembered the little sweet spot I had used last time... Sure enough, there it was, the little heated cubbyhole at the bottom of the stairs. Jackpot(-ish).
After staking out my accommodations, I ventured back up into the world of party and did my usual schtick of being completely out of place. This time, however, I actually got around to placing myself in a conversation with a couple other people, whereupon I got to hear all about the detailed significance of this one chick's inverted cross necklace, and also got to be pegged by some dude's wildly inaccurate stereotyping (making assumptions about my personality based on hair length). Actually rather fun.
At one point, as I was standing around meaninglessly, I was approached by a gal I'd never seen before. She told me I looked rather alone (about as close a translation as I can get), what with how I was standing about. I informed her that, well, that's kinda how I roll. We ended up chatting for a bit, and then she got pulled away for something. Apparently, someone had decided to invite a friend to the party. That was... Unexpected. But I daresay she was somewhat interested in me (or at least intrigued by), what with approaching me with a line like that.
As the night wore on, I eventually found myself sitting with a few of the other lads. Not much was going on, when a newcomer suddenly appeared at the other end of the table we were at.
Drops.
I'd heard before that he was thinking about coming, but this confirmed it without a shadow of a doubt. The night was now guaranteed to have something interesting come out of it. And it was only moments later that the guarantee was fulfilled.
Drops wasn't really much of one for parties, but he knew that they were things were a lot of people go to one place, whereupon they start drinking, dancing, and playing fun games. So far, so fine.
Well, apparently someone had neglected to inform him what exactly is meant by a "drinking game". For you see, Drops, in an attempt to come prepared for a roaring good time, had brought some games.
Namely, Clue and Scrabble.
This revelation filled me with warmth and joy. I knew now that, with people like Drops in the world, life would never lose that little spark of mystery and excitement. No, he was going to make damn sure that we would all go completely bingo-boingo crazy before anything like that ever happened.
As the night wore on, however, I became increasingly aware of Pirate-Goth, and what I wanted to say. As per usual, however, it was remarkably difficult to find a quiet moment with her.
Hatman, aware of my plight and on a quest of his own, decided to aid me in the only way he knew how: Offering me some whiskey.
I was still not a drinker, having only consumed a few sips of various alcoholic beverages over the past year, but I felt that if there ever was a time/place to start drinking, then this was one of them. I took a couple slugs from the bottle he recommended. I still have flashbacks now and then about the burning sensation of it going down my throat.
Speaking of which, Ballantine's tastes like friggin' cough syrup.
With the whiskey working its magic inside my system (and crapping fire into my throat), I was closer to working up the required level of abdominal contents in order to just open up to her.
I also happened to observe Hatman bump into her on one of his bumbles around the establishment and trade a couple words. I couldn't tell what they were talking about, but later on he happened by me and thrust a thumbs-up at me.
I asked him what exactly he meant by that. He shrugged and slurred out "I don't know" before shambling off to get some more whiskey. I interpreted the thumb as a sign that he had broached the subject with her, and that signs were favorable. I probably should have interpreted the "I don't know" as well.
So, a short time later, I managed to find an opportunity, and sat down next to her. I leaned over.
Looking back at this moment, I am still astonished at just how idiotic some of the things I say can be.
Me: "Hey want to hear a secret?"
Her: "Uh, alright"
Me: "Maybe someplace a little more quiet?"
Her: "Aww , I'd rather not. I'm having fun"
Me: (long pause)
Me: (leaning in close to whisper in ear) "I think I'm falling for you"
I remember that moment clearly. The look that came over her face, the tone of her voice, the way she turned to look at me.
Her: "Oh no, not
now..."
She went on to talk about how it was so late in the game to even be thinking about stuff like that, and how it was a time when we should really just be trying to push any serious thoughts from our minds and make the most out of the few days we had left. She explained how she considered us to be friends, nothing more or less. She told me how much it pained her to be turning me down, but she couldn't in good conscience say yes just for my sake, as lying in such a way would be a far greater evil against me.
I listened, patiently. Understanding most of what she had to say, agreeing with it even. I waited for her to finish letting me down, then excused myself.
I wasn't surprised or shocked. What got me the most was that I had seen it coming, seen it coming for ages. And yet I had, knowingly and determinedly, gone against those observations and carried through with it. Even when I sat down to bare my heart to her, I could clearly see what was going to happen. Her tone of voice, her movements, the look in her eyes, they all told me that there was nothing to be found here.
I'm still not completely sure of why I chose to do it... If I simply doubted my observations (which had proven wrong on many prior occasions) and decided that the potential reward was worth the risk, or if I somehow felt it would make me grow as a person to be rejected one more time. Perhaps some deep, twisted part of me even
wanted to be rejected, to feel again that all-consuming ache of a scorned heart. I really can't say.
I went into one of the bathrooms. Even in my state, the iconic situation of a heartsick individual sitting and crying into a piece of toilet paper was not lost on me, and I was able to garner a small smile from the whole ordeal. Also from the poor gal who went into the stall next to me and wrung her stomach out into the john. Some people have difficulty holding their liquor, whereas I have trouble handling my sobriety. Cute.
I can't say I felt great coming out of there, but I at least felt better. Good enough that I was willing to insert myself back into the world outside, for the sake of someone who might really need to actually use the toilet.
Upstairs, I ran into Beefcake's girlfriend, who if you recall also happens to be X's roommate and the gal whose hands I warmed up on the island trip, way back when. She asked me how I was doing. I tried just brushing her off with a "not great", but after she prodded me for a bit I eventually spilled it.
I told her everything. All of it. Classic life story. From getting rejected Pirate-Goth (whose name I withheld), to the whole deal with X, even to my first girlfriend who dumped me when I was four years old. I confided in her, for some reason.
And you know, I couldn't have picked a better person for it.
She comforted me, giving me the standard spiel of stating my virtues and how lucky a person would be to have me, but she also let me in on a few secrets of her own. I feel like it would be a violation of her trust if I were to talk about them here, so suffice to say that they opened my eyes in regards to a few different people and also gave me a closure that I didn't know I needed or could have. She also informed me that, someday, I was going to release a music album and that she was going to be first in line to buy a copy. Silly as that was, it helped. And for her help, I will always be grateful.
Also, she gave me her mojito. Score.
Not long after that, I felt like a massive weight had lifted from me. I'm not entirely sure if it was the alcohol I had consumed, or the words of encouragement I had just received, or if it was something I managed to come across on my own, but I felt pretty good. Pretty damn good, all things considered. Pretty sure the mojito helped though.
I'd just realized that I didn't actually feel that way towards Pirate-Goth. I felt nothing of the same cloud that had hung over me with X, and I felt perfectly clean and clear. Certainly, it still hurt to be rejected, but I didn't feel like I'd just been scorned by something I truly desired.
I had made a mistake. For whatever reason, I had deluded myself into thinking that I was infatuated with the poor girl. But then I understood that it was just an illusion, that I truly and honestly did not feel that way about her. This made me feel pretty good, not just because I no longer felt scorned but also because that meant there might be some slim chance of actually salvaging this whole debacle.
But I'd worry about that later... First, I would do my best to experience what it was like being drunk, as this was also the first time in my life that I had gotten a bit tipsy. Several slugs of whiskey (after hearing about the rejection, Hatman offered me another shot at depleting his supplies) and a Cuban-rum mojito are not half bad for someone who's never really had a drink before in his life.
In the foreground, we see the back of Brain-damaged Loverboy's head, as he is enthusiastically telling me about something. Then, in the background, we see the table which has been repositioned in order to prop up the door to the walk-in fridge. Yes, prop it up. Someone managed to detach it.
On the table you can see all the drinks that were pulled out of the fridge before it was table-sealed. The cup closest to me is what's left of the pint of mojito she gave me.
I will admit to one thing that I am by no means proud of... I'm not entirely sure where to insert it, as the timeline of the party is a little bit hazy for me, and also because I don't think it really fits in anywhere... So I'll put it here.
At one point, I found the gal who had approached me earlier in the evening... She was sitting by herself off to one side and looked like she'd had a few. I'm still amazed that I would ever conceive to do this, but I started trying my luck to see if I could get laid.
I went up to her and repeated the line she'd given me earlier, about how she looked rather alone. Her eyes drifted over to my location and she smiled absently before floating back into the half-conscious stupor she had been in. Apparently, she'd had
quite a few.
It finally dawned on me what it was I was trying to do, and I got up to leave her alone. I'm still ashamed that I would even consider something like that, but at least I left off when it turned out that she was about as aware as a bar of Ivory soap.
I spent the rest of the evening looking at my hands as I waved them through the air (marveling at the delay between thought and movement, and also how fluid all movements seemed to be), finding straight lines to walk along, drinking water compulsively and fixing that #%^ door every time some new twit moved the table away to get inside, not realizing that all their stuff was already lying on the table they'd just moved.
Eventually, I felt it was time to check out for the night. It was far later than I had ever stayed awake at one of these things, but still a rather early time for most of the partygoers. I cuddled up in my little hiding place, cranked up the heater, and tried to shut down the internal systems for the night.
But, of course, there had to be a catch.
A group of students was sitting one the landing directly above me, happily chittering away about something. The giggles and comments were interspersed by the excited boomings of a voice I knew just a little too well... My ex-roommate, the Idol.
I tried to block that voice out and just go to sleep, or hope that they'd eventually find a new spot to haunt, but no. Nobody moved, or even turned down the volume.
Indeed, the shouts and guffaws of the Idol were soon accompanied by the blarings of his phone as he played children's techno remixes at full volume. Repeatedly.
Eventually, I'd had enough. I walked up the stairs and informed them that there happened to be someone who was trying to sleep underneath them, and could they please keep it down. Most of them offered mild apologies, or even started picking themselves up to relocate. Except for one.
My former roommate, completely oblivious to the fact that I was even there (or simply ignoring me), had started up that damn song for the fifth time running, and was still laughing just as hard at it. He even pulled back a couple of the others so that they could still listen to his phone.
I repeated myself to him. No response, not even a glance at me. Just that silly little tune. He wasn't laughing as hard though, almost as if some minor thing were distracting him from full enjoyment.
Then I lost it.
"MOVE YOUR GODDAMN ASS BEFORE I MOVE IT
FOR YOU."
...
DAMN that felt good! All that time spent loathing him and his idiotic little ways, and the way everyone seemed to adore him even though I could fathom not a single reason to do so, all that frustration was let out by giving him a good yell. Man, I'd wanted to yell at him for so long, it wasn't even funny...
And it got a reaction, too. He stopped laughing. The phone kept going, but he was now letting himself be pulled up by the other students in order to go somewhere else. A couple people made halfhearted remarks about 'Ooh, someone's unhappy', but I could see that I'd scared them a bit. Made me feel even better.
With them now officially heading off somewhere else, I graciously thanked them for their understanding in the matter and started off back down the stairs.
All throughout the ordeal, my roommate didn't look at me a single time.
Feeling pretty good with myself, and eagerly awaiting the next day, I went back into my bag in an attempt to find some measure of sleep. Which isn't exactly easy, what with having my head five feet from the restroom and with the people upstairs still being incapable of understanding the intricacies of "lower volume after 1 AM".
Pretty sure the mojito helped though.
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Topic: Sandy Fjord (Read 92156 times)