Burning Electrons

As I was leaving the coffee shop this morning, one of the other early morning patrons said something to me about bruises.  I had no idea what he was talking about so I asked him what he meant.  He said “from falling off the bar-stool“.  John doesn’t always have a reason for saying things. Being an old codger, he doesn’t need to have a reason. As I left, I told him that I don’t drink.

But I did drink, and for most of my life I couldn’t conceive of not drinking… every day… at least to go to sleep at night, if for no other reason, to combat insomnia.  Ever since I was a teen-ager, I have had insomnia.  Or I thought I had insomnia.  I have always used some sort of aid to go to sleep.  Alcohol, OTC meds, Prescription meds. But alcohol always played some role in my going to sleep. For some reason, I no longer have insomnia.  Maybe its the morphine and fentanyl that I take for pain.  Do you think?

But I never fell off a bar-stool. At least I don’t remember ever falling off a bar stool.  As I was walking back to my house I started thinking about the time I walked across the Sierra Madre mountains in California.  It was an eleven day trip, most of it spent above 11,000 feet.   We didn’t carry any alcohol on that trip, not even one drink. So when we came out of the mountains at Lone Pine, below Mt. Whitney, I was ready to have a drink.  I was also ready to eat supper with a fork and knife instead of just a spoon. Having been on a freeze dried diet for the whole trip, there was no need for a knife or fork.  After we got to Lone Pine we called one of my co-trekkers girlfriend in Santa Barbara to come and pick us up.  She was going to get there the next morning so we got a room at some cheap, funky hotel in the heart of Lone Pine.  I only remember one street in Lone Pine, so it was along that street somewhere.  After showering and eating dinner at some cheap, but good, restaurant, Jerry and Glenn went back to the hotel, and I, with the $7 that we had left, headed to to a dive bar, where the Budweiser tall boys were 50 cents.

As far as I can remember, I spent the whole $7 on bottles of Bud, but I could have bought a round that wasn’t reciprocated, and I could have left a tip, but I don’t remember. All I remember is that I spent the whole night, until closing (at 2am), drinking and carrying on with the cowboys who I found in the bar.  I do remember that after the bar closed, I was staggering down the street and decided I needed to puke.  Actually, I had no choice in the matter.  I happened to be walking past a U-Haul dealership and staggered into the back of the lot to take care of business. As I walked back to the street, I realized that there was no longer anyone else out there, except, maybe, the police.  For some reason, I got it into my head that I might get arrested for public intoxication if I continued down the street, so I crawled under a U-Haul truck and passed out.

I woke up as dawn was beginning to break, that time when you can see without lights, but the lights are still on, and managed to walk back to our hotel.  Actually, by that time I didn’t feel drunk anymore, and as I recall, I didn’t even feel hung over.  I did feel, however, that it was too early to go up to the room and wake up Jerry and Glenn (there was only one double bed in the room, and one of them would have had to wake up if I wanted to crawl into bed, so I decided to hang out in the lobby until they got up by themselves). It was actually a nice lobby, one of those old fashion lobbies that double as a sitting room where people read their morning papers.

And there was a very pretty, young woman also sitting in the lobby.  I have no idea what we said to each other, but I soon understood that she was a hooker who had no room where she could spend the night. She tried to get me to take her back to my room.  She was even willing to throw in a free fuck if I took her to the room.  I guess her rooms were otherwise engaged and she had no place to sleep that morning.  She was hoping I would give her one, but for some reason I wouldn’t do it.  Even after all these years, I remember that she was a very good looking woman, one that I would normally jump into the sack with, but I couldn’t do that to Jerry and Glenn.  I’m not sure why, I only know that I intentionally turned down a free fuck for some forgotten reason. About three hours later, our ride showed up and we headed back to Santa Barbara.

So, that’s the story of one night that I was drunk enough to fall off a bar-stool.  Over the years there were lots more of those opportunities, but for some reason that was the one that came to mind this morning.