Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Fall From Grace

Let me begin again by saying thank you everyone for reading my blog, It has been a very good opening week as far as numbers go. So once again, thank you. Before I start I should warn you that this story goes into detail about a drunken incident and the consequences which follow… hope you enjoy.

I would like to take you back in time (again) to the first half of my travels. I should probably explain that I cannot be too specific about the exact date, nor even the month of when this incident took place as the consequences would be dyer. So for the “persons” benefit I will use a false name and be very vague about times and places. For the purposes of this story my mystery guest will be called… Laquonda.

It’s party time! Rheannon and I decide to throw a party for a friends birthday (no names), one which starts at our old flat in Vancouver and culminates in a ditch somewhere. We invite everyone, and since living in Vancouver we have met some really amazing people, a few of which were there (see told you I’d be vague). The parties in full flow, people are laughing, the Doritos are gone and we are rapidly running out of things to consume. The nearest bar beckons us! After a few attempts, using my best herding skills, I manage to get everyone out. Laquonda has been relatively quiet so far, drinking her home-made cocktail and engaging in conversation. No one suspects that she is out of control or even drunk, she is just having a good time like the rest of us.

The bar has a good atmosphere to it, and we do the standard thing that you do when you arrive at a place that serves alcohol, we swarm the bar. About 10 minutes in and half the guests have drinks and are sitting down, the other half are gathered round the bar either waiting for drinks or chatting to those waiting for drinks. So far, standard night… Laquonda is within earshot, nothing to worry about though, a few drinks down and she’s feeling the buzz, as is everyone.

BOOM! All of a sudden, everything changes. She falls… hard! The kind of fall which gets everybody’s attention, some men nearby have answered the call before me. I notice immediately that this is the kind of fall which you don’t laugh at… It’s a concerned reaction, mans natural protective instinct has kicked in and she’s being helped to her feet before I have a chance to react. I collect her from them, and she is as you’d expect… drunker than an alcoholic Irishman at a Beerfest convention.

OK time for me to step up and look after the drunk one, it’s been a while so see if I can remember… first I’ll prop her up at the bar, test her actual state before I jump to conclusions and call it an early night. First move with its first mistake, it takes all of thirty seconds before she face plants the bar, “OK time to go…” but wait, she’s not finished at the bar. Before I finish this part of the story just do me a favour and take the time to hazard a guess at what happened next… maybe she falls over again? Or perhaps she picks up my pint, smashes it on the bar-top and holds everyone in the bar hostage demanding they all hand over all their money... that would be a pretty bad thing to happen right?

Meanwhile the birthday boy has fallen asleep in the toilet, what is going on? It’s only eleven thirty! Laquondas face remains on the bar, but I can see in the dim lighting that something disastrous is happening… Laquonda is being sick on the bar! As if I hadn’t noticed, my friend says to me, “she’s being sick on the bar, sick on the bar!” Wow thank you Captain Obvious… the barman is muttering the same thing to, as if he’s possessed by a demon, he might as well be sitting with his legs crossed on the floor rocking back and forth. He approaches and thinks, like my friend, that it would be a great idea to share the same priceless nugget of information with me. Normally in this situation I would be incredibly sarcastic and hurl abuse, but I’m running out of time, by my judgement there’s about a 2 minute window before Laquonda is paralytic and unresponsive. “Give me a damn towel” I say to the barmen, “there… it’s not covering it” he exclaims, and I have to admit that the amount of sick on the bar now is quite substantial. “Well-get-me-another-one-then,” I say through gritted teeth. I cover the rest with the other towel he gives me, hoist Laquonda, and I’m gone. 40 seconds down and my flat is a good minute and a half walk… this is going to be close.

We enter and she falls on the sofa, defeated… and I spend the next hour transporting bowls, of what can only be described as bile, to the toilet. Good thing really, she had given everything to the bar…

Her stomach finally calls a truce and she lies muttering the words, “I don’t want to take up any room.”

She promptly falls asleep.

Good times in Vancouver with great friends.

1 comment:

  1. Brilliant re-telling! I have NO idea who it could


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