Fall Down Drunk
You could say I drank my way out of college. Booze and pot became more important to me than my grades. The thing about getting good grades in college is that it takes so much work and discipline. I mean, like, a lot of work and discipline. Smoking a bowl and playing Beirut all night, on the contrary, feels like barely any work at all. For me, the choice was easy.
I fell down some stairs one time. We’d been playing Beirut and flip-cup and asshole all night when we decided to go upstairs and take some hits from the grav. After some time I left my chair because I “just needed to walk around”. I followed somebody upstairs, I guess to watch some tv or play video games, and as soon as I got to the top of the stairs, I closed my eyes and lost consciousness for a few seconds.
When I woke up, I was at the bottom of the stairs, face-up. I must rolled backward instead of falling stiff like a felled tree, because there was a cut on my forehead. I was helped up and placed on a couch where I slept it off. My back hurt the next day, but I was fine. I’d been lucky. Some people would take an event like that as a sign that they should maybe lay off the drink for a while, not to mention the ganja. But I kept on going. I partied that night as if nothing had happened. I’m just a hopeless drunk.
In times of inebriation I’ve fallen down stairs, fallen into ranch dressing, fallen out of cars, fallen on the bus, and fallen out of bed.
Honestly, I can’t wait to get back to it.
No matter what embarrassing, costly things happen to me when I’m under the influence, I’ll always want to be back under the influence. It’s a powerful beast. If I wasn’t using it as motivation to pay off my debt I’d feel terrible about my weakness.