I wasn't alone in the smoke stained 'made for a queen' bed.. I was gently awakened by Mm's and Ooh's humming in my ear. I had been back on college break for four days and five nights and spent three of those nights turning lonely hotel rooms into majestic quarters (usually) for parties of two.
My first night back to a town I once despised and dreamt of leaving and now call my home was full of reunions with people I never let myself love. The grass was always greener on the other side during middle school and high school. As I traveled to places i wasn't welcome and literally kicked out of, I found commonalities in those I once hated. We were raised with the same teachers, principled and directed with similar morals and trains of thought, then split to the hot and cold, the sun or snow, and expected to find our own.
It was the birthday party at a new club in palo alto of some old friends from middle school, one being a jew I hadn't seen for 8 years. With the help of shots all around and his jewish blood, I knew it would be fine though. (I have a strange love for jewish people. One of my closest friends and her family are jewish; they curse like drunken sailors, talk openly about everything- from their crazy past to current sex lives all while faking a Russian accent.) The wet bandits made their way into the club, no cover charge for these girls as usual. Seconds within entrance a short man claiming he worked for disney bought us shots. Vodka tonight please. No mixing until later. In bathroom stalls and too much liquor in our systems, we reconciled with familiar faces from my elementary yearbooks. Hugs and phone numbers and "we've gotta do lunch"es were exchanged.
As I stood there in my festive red and black plaid dress, negro stockings and heels to match, a bypasser in attire made for him kicked out of this club caught my attention. He complimented my dress and I'm sure I returned the gesture. He told me they were leaving. Intrigued by his casual confidence that I usually only find in mirrors, I grabbed my partner Catherina and we followed. Outside we formally (intoxication at its best) met those we thought we knew from past lives. Not knowing where to go or what to do, only knowing I wanted to know where this man may take me, I foolishly offered to drive him and these newfound friends.
On the 101 and past the .08 we pushed 85. Dividers, Bob Sinclair and a cheap drive through safely led us to what Catherina and I thought was one of the boys apartments. The friend, already head over heels for my beautiful blonde other, impressed us by drunkenly climbing the wall and letting us all in to this unknown tower. We reached the roof, smoked, drank and had no idea where to go next. At this point, and of course due to some much needed drunk driving bonding time, teasing and affection, I knew the bypasser was more than passing by. His American Spirit was much more than anything I'd planned on or even hoped for.
American Sprit's friends offered to buy a hotel for the night, it was much too early and we were all much too antsy to return to our respected homes. Off to heiress' home, we made our way to the room. Two wine bottles later we had killed the skyy and were spinning our remains and kissing what it landed on. My man of the night and I were the only ones openly enjoying the game. Pillowfights and fallen feathers laid softened our sleep. I've been told I'm a snorer, it was confirmed by the 3 others sleeping in that bed made for kings.
10:30 am came quick, I woke up believing I was still dreaming. I was convinced Catherina and my hopeful had messed around while I was sleeping, and I became a skeptic of this stimulating potential. Rain made way for a clear conscious. The wet bandits, still in unbelief but reminded of our power when joined, dropped the boys at the train.
My American Spirit kissed me off, promising he'd find a way to me.
Catherina left and I drove happy, still slightly drunk, excited but mainly nervous for what I may be getting myself into...
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