Nothing To Be Proud Of

I went to happy hour with my boss at the time, Neil, a British guy who could drink Guiness like nobody's business. So on an empty stomach, I had about six or seven pints of beer under an hour.

Why was I drinking so fast? Well, for one, I was pacing with Neil. And for two, I had to go meet up with my girlfriend at the time, Kim, to watch Ratatouille. We were fighting the night before, I don't remember what it was about, but she was still pissed and insisted that I don't be late.

So, I hopped into a cab in the West Village, and headed up to Kip's Bay for the movie. Besides the constant jerking of the cab, everything was fine until we got to my destination. We got to the corner where I told the cabbie to drop me off, I took out a $20 bill (I have no idea how much the fare was, but it couldn't have been anywhere near 20 bucks), and then it happened.

I threw up all over the cab. And on the right leg of my jeans. Ugh.

I didn't even ask for change, got out, sat on a porch and held my head in my hands, trying to sober up.

The cab driver got out to follow me and kept on bitching, saying he wouldn't be able to get another fare. I think I mentioned something along the lines that I just gave him a twenty, but he just ignored that.

His blabbering just made my head hurt more, so I took out another $20 bill.

"Here. Take this, get the fuck away from me and shut the fuck up."

He quickly pocketed it, but the asshole didn't stop. He threatened to call the cops.

That did it. I was still on probation at the time, but I hated when people threatened to call the cops on me, especially if I didn't do anything illegal. I mean, c'mon, since when is throwing up in public illegal?

"Call the cops?" I asked. "What the fuck are you gonna call the cops for? Huh? Okay fine, call the fucking cops, give me back my money."

I approached him but he backed away, of course not giving up the money.

"Look, look! Cops right there!" he shouted, pointing to a traffic police car.

I don't think he expected me to actually hail the cops down, but unluckily (or maybe luckily) they didn't notice and kept on driving.

But that convinced the cabbie that I really didn't care if he got the cops involved, and he ran to his cab and drove off.

What a prick.

Anyhow, I called Kim, and she already sounded pissed.

"Well, I'm not late, I'm here but I can't watch the movie with you."

"WHAT? Why not?"

Uh oh.

She was with her friend Lin and her boyfriend at the time, Vic.

"Well..."

And I proceeded to explain the story that I just told you up until now.

"... so I really need to go home and change, my jeans just reek. It's fucking nasty," I finished.

Kim wasn't having it. I guess she really wanted to watch Ratatouille lol. We continued arguing in person, Vic and Lin were just waiting around, we told them to watch the movie without us, but they missed it. Then they found another movie they could watch. They missed that one too.

So apparently we were arguing outside of the theater for awhile. I'm not exactly sure how the fight was resolved, but Vic said he'd drive us home to Rego Park, Queeens.

He had some wet naps in his car, I cleaned up, got in, and no more than a few blocks later, the stench was unbearable.

"Oh my god I can't take this shit anymore," I said and took everything out of my pockets.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kim asked, looking at me like I completely lost my mind.

I ended up throwing my jeans out the car window. What the fuck was I thinking? Well... I wasn't really, to be honest, but hey, it got rid of the smell of vomit, right?

I didn't really plan this too far ahead though. Vic couldn't find parking any closer than two blocks away (technically I guess he could have just dropped me off in front of my building first), but I ended up walking those two blocks in boxers and boots lol.

Thankfully I didn't know anyone in that neighborhood.

Moral of the story? Don't be a dumbass >.<

P.S - I just remembered, sometime during that car ride home I bit Lin's hand or arm pretty hard for some reason... I think she dared me to? Or told me I could? Yeah I kinda have a biting fetish lol

Ten Twenty Nine Oh One - Part 1

To be honest, I don't remember how this night started. What I do remember is that we had to deliver 1,000 pills to Jules' friend in Manhattan. We borrowed Steve's partner's car, and drove from Brooklyn to my mom's place, I had to pick up a few things. It was a couple days before Halloween, October 29th actually.

I walked into my mom's apartment for the first time in a month, but we were in a hurry, so I was rushing about. It was around 8:00pm, and my mom was trying to get a good look at me and talking to me, especially since she hasn't seen me in a long time.

She had a concerned look on her face, I think she also felt helpless, unable to stop me from walking back out that door. The conversation was very brief.

I hopped back into the car, while calling Jules' friend. He asked us to meet him on some street in Greenwich Village. Not thinking twice about it, we drove off.

Steve and I told Jules that this was the last time we were delivering, and if his friend wanted more, he'd have to come to us in Queens. Jules nodded, saying he understood how much of a hassle it was.

"Yeah I already told him that but he kept saying he was worried we might set him up."

"What?" I asked incredulous. "Is he stupid? If anything, it'd be him setting us up, who the hell sets up the buyer instead of the dealer?"

We all laughed about it and chalked it up to inexperience. When we got to the agreed street, it was jam packed with pedestrians, cops, everyone.

"Why did he pick this street, of all places in Manhattan? Is he dumb?"

If he's dumb, I was dumber. Or just not thinking clearly after a few months of continuous highs.

We parked the car, Jules' friend got in.

"Are those the pills?" he asked, pointing to a Motorola box.

"Yeah," Steve replied. "A thousand."

"Okay, let me go get the money from my partner."

He did the same the first time I sold to him. Steve never met him before.

In the mirror I saw a car try to bust a U-turn on a one-way street. I started laughing thinking he didn't know how to drive or he might have been drunk.

Until I saw another car in front of us do the exact same thing.

"Oh shit..." I trailed off.

DEA agents jumped out of everywhere, guns drawn.

"Freeze motherfuckers! Get your hands in the air!"

Make up your damn minds. Freeze or hands up? Unsure of which command to obey, I just stayed still, which I guess I inadvertently obeyed command No. 1. I've seen too many innocent kids get shot because the cops thought they were reaching for a weapon.

It's a dream, I'ma wake up. It's a dream, I'ma wake up...

I haven't woken up since.

They pulled me out of the car, slammed me on the cold concrete, foot on my back, they patted me down for weapons, asking if I had any at the same time.

I shook my head, then remembering I carried a knife, I told them about it.

They pulled me back up. Pedestrians everywhere were taking front row seats to the free just-off-Broadway show, some laughing and pointing, some chuckling, some curious, and some actually seeming concerned. Don't ask how I recorded the emotions of a few dozen people in a matter of seconds. I just did. Or like to believe that I did.

And then the prejudice begins.

"You know Nicky Dragon?" one of them asked me.

"No."

"You look just like him. You sure you don't know him?"

I shook my head again.

"Well he was the head of Flying Dragons back in the 80s, but we took him down. We'll take you all down."

They pushed me towards a car, separating the three of us.

"You know any martial arts or anything?" someone asked me, chuckling.

"A little," I said softly.

I meant it as a joke, even though I did take karate when I was younger. What the fuck would karate do for me in this situation??

But, surprisingly, the agent didn't take it so lightly. He actually paused long enough to look at me closely, then pushed me to someone else.

"Here you take him."

What an idiot lol.

Anyhow, once in the car, they pressured me to cooperate with them over and over again.

"Cooperate with us and we'll cut you a deal."

I didn't know how to deal with these kinds of situations. So what did I do? I did what I saw on TV. You don't talk until you see your lawyer.

"I wanna see my lawyer."

"Come on kid, you're looking at five years if you don't work with us. You don't wanna do five years, trust me. You're young. You say no now, and come back crying to us later that you wanna cut a deal, we won't be giving you the same deal."

"I wanna see my lawyer."

"Look, don't do this to yourself..."

"I wanna see my laywer."

This went on for awhile. I must have told them I wanted to see my lawyer close to ten times.

We got back to their headquarters, and I was the only one in a cell. Jules and Steve were in separate rooms making signed confessions.

Fuck. Fucking assholes. Meanwhile I'm the youngest of the three. Can't you fuckers just keep your mouths shut??

I shook my head in resignation, looking around at my empty cell, first time ever being a cage. I felt bad for the animals at zoos. Steve was walked out of his interrogation room first. He glanced at me, teary eyed and apologized.

I just shrugged. Apologies weren't going to do me jack shit.

They eventually called me out of my cell, fingerprinted me (that fucking ink is IMPOSSIBLE to wash off...), made me strip naked (and trust me, you lose your dignity one strip at a time), asked me a ridiculous amount of questions, and eventually sent me back to my cell.

We were all in separate cells, more silent than a graveyard at the stroke of midnight. I would like to relate the thoughts crossing my mind at that point, but unfortunately it's impossible.

My mind was a total blank. I don't even think the gravity of what just happened had fully hit home yet.

But next time something impossibly crazy happens to you, pinch yourself harder or you might never wake up.