#featuring j's ufe and the first time he's rambled just to ramble in....legit years

[thinkingaboutsanfrancisco]

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…”

S cuts through this awful tune like a gust of air, but unfortunately, it’s only incendiary to my infernal state when I notice the seemingly officious little motion he’s doing with his hand; all five of his fingers firmly splaying out to stop me now, after he permitted me to down this fucking poison, and I swear to fucking God...this isn’t happening again. I let it slide on Sunday because I couldn’t get a word in edgewise to correct him of it then, but I’m not about to allow him to call me a greedy bitch for taking up something that he offered, especially when I’m still fucking burning from it. 

“What? You said I could have one!” I snap, hoping that my words can come out before I actually spew. They do, but getting riled up and spitting them out with such force only irritates my lingering urge to cough that I’ve been trying to suppress.

Oh shit. Please don’t let me start throwing up. Please, please, please...

Fortunately, I’m able to extinguish the hacking quick enough to hear him quell my flare of anger when he stands by his offer, yet his admirable virtue can’t erase the disappointment at myself that his joking reminder’s agitated and my face collapses into my palm. Yeah, I know, S. I shouldn’t have gone so hard. It is only 10 and now I’ve fucked up myself so bad that I might be out of commission for the rest of the night. I can’t exactly sell in the bathroom if I’m too busy retching my fucking brains out in there. 

So much for good luck. 

If I weren’t so sick, I’d probably chuckle at that...or when S tells me that I’ll hurt myself by throwing myself back like that as if that’s hypothetical at this point, before he ups the comedic ante by asking me if I “accidentally” breathed in the smell ‘cause c’mon man...no shit. Did you not see my fingers pinching my nose? How could you miss the prime beacon of my amateurism? I think I signaled to everyone in this place that I’ve never drunk before by doing that and the shit was so strong that it barely helped. 

“Yeah, and it was fucking awful. Why?” I ask, finally removing my hand from my face to reveal my faint smile as I wait for him to go ahead and break into another warranted laugh at my stupidity. Seriously man, it’s alright. I looked like a fucking clown...

Two shots in have his loose grin permanently plastered on him, but my answer’s perturbed him to take on a foreign stone-cold serious tone that I don’t understand until he explains that it was dangerous for me to have done that since I could’ve actually choked on the fumes. That should unnerve me too, and it does a little, but I mostly find it relieving that the perception of their potency isn’t driven by my own inexperienced sensitivities; it’s not just me, they are that fucking strong. 

“Have you eaten today?” He randomly asks, jarringly dipping deeper into that level of concern. 

Okay, dad. 

What kind of question is that? Of course I have…

“Yeah, I had a Hot Pocket for dinner about two hours ago and a Snickers a few hours before that…”

— “That’s all you ate the whole day?”

Well...technically no; I grabbed a Mountain Dew and a small bag of Doritos from the vending machine around noon for lunch and ate as much as I could stomach of my microwavable sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich for breakfast too, though that was all the way back at 5 this morning and far from relevant to his question since it wore off at some point. The pepperoni Hot Pocket was just the most recent meal that’s sustaining me, even though I didn’t finish it. 

Not like S needs to know. 

It was more than sufficient though. Chewing’s become such a dull chore to me lately that, outside of the Snickers that tasted incredible, frankly, I would’ve been fine without eating any of it if I didn’t have to. All of it’s nauseated me anyway, but I hate the crash that catches up with me when I haven’t, so I at least try. It sucks sometimes, but whatever. I’m used to it. 

To him, however, this is apparently enough of a dire situation to garner him to have me remind him to take me out to eat again which...is a nice gesture, even if it feels somewhat counter-intuitive. The smells of food frying and variety of sounds can sometimes get to me but talking and listening usually distracts me from that and the food is better at restaurants too, so I’m not opposed to getting treated again. Shit, that sandwich I got from when we went to Tommy’s on Sunday was rough for the first meal of the day, but it was probably the best thing I’ve had all week. I never told him that, though. I never told him anything outside of what I just ate, yet he’s somehow convinced himself my ‘Hot Pocket diet’ is something to be concerned over when it’s really not. 

I still ate, didn’t I? 

I sigh, the defense readily on the tip of my tongue in case he presses me further on it, but I thankfully don’t have to. He acknowledges that it is at least something and finally gets to the point of why he brought it up: to never drink on an empty stomach. 

Ohh...

Well, it’s not as if I was exactly planning on drinking tonight, but the warning makes sense. So much so that, like when he explained about the fumes, the knowledge makes me feel better instead of worse. It wasn’t random intrusion into the details of my daily life, it was the second most obvious conclusion as to why I was undeniably about to throw up all over this bar and, at this point, I’m so grateful that I haven’t thrown up yet that it’s humbled me into not caring about how embarrassing I must’ve been for him to watch. 

He’s far past that anyway. 

He remains sober enough to know too that I can’t be acting so impulsively foolish if I want to fulfill our purpose here, but he clearly cares more to invest the time to correct me than cheaply condemn me condescendingly for not being able to handle my liquor and...it’s weird. Not in a bad way, but I don’t think he’s spared me this much direct earnest guidance before. He’s consumed in this lesson, consumed in wanting me to do this right for my own safety, that he’s got his third shot already in his hand while he explains in detail what I should do if I ever want to take shots again: “So, you see as I’m talking to you, I’m holding it away from my face so that I don’t accidentally get a whiff of the near-toxic fumes. This is important to remember. Now, I’m gonna tilt my head back slightly — not all the way, just a little, then I’m gonna breathe in, take the shot, breathe out. I’m not gonna let it sit in my mouth too long, and I’m gonna relax my throat and take it in one big but smooth gulp…” 

I don’t exactly want to keep going, but I also don’t want the only time I’ve done it to have been improperly either. They’re working for him so far and this one is no exception, so maybe they can for me too if I straighten myself up and follow his instructions. 

“Alright, but don’t forget your own advice. That’s your third one in as equally many minutes. It’s only 10, remember?” I chuckle as I pick up another one, this time keeping a distance while I toast, “The first one was a trial run, so let me set my record straight and try again. For good luck, even if that only means that I don’t get as sick.”

Closing my eyes, I inhale, tilt my head back, bring the rim closer and gulp the tequila down so I can exhale and…

“Shit,” I mutter as I set the empty glass down next to the other one, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before I glance over and give his expectant gaze the conclusion we both hoped for, “Okay, that was...better. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like it by any stretch, but uh...that’s ultimately more of my own alcohol bias than anything against tequila specifically. I guess it’s not exactly a secret anymore, and probably never was since I ordered a fucking Coke in a bar, but I don’t drink — well, I hadn’t, anyway — so I wasn’t aware that there was a proper method of execution that eliminates the godawful smells and it really helped me there. I wish I’d known it before I knocked myself on my ass with that first shot ‘cause fuck...I’m still nauseated from it, but hey, you taught me and now I know how so...thanks for that, man. I appreciate it.”