Eastern Promises

I awoke last Saturday morning from the unpleasant sensation of my left arm being completely asleep. I was shaking my arm, trying to rouse it, when I noticed the state of my hands. It looked like I had gotten into a fistfight with a gang of rubber stamps: Eastside West, Blue Light, Matrix, Delaney’s, Bar None, HiFi… the usual suspects. Problem was, I didn’t remember running into them. As blurry images of the previous evening drifted in and out of my head, I slowly began to realize that I was lying on the floor of an apartment I had never been in before.

I heard laughter coming from what I could only assume was the bedroom. It was two men.

Holy Hell! What the shit happened last night!

I was up in a beat, clutching a chair as I swayed, still drunk. My pants were on. I took that as a good sign. I gathered my shit as quickly as I could. Wallet: check. Hurry Keys: check. Hurry!! Phone: check. HURRY! Shoe… shoe… shoe… WHERE THE FUCK WAS MY OTHER SHOE!

Too late. The bedroom door opened…

“Clubz, what’s crackin’?”

Oh thank god. It was Loks. No worries.

“How’d you sleep man? Floor comfy an’ shit? Ha ha.”

I mopped my forehead with my sleeve – it smelled like whiskey. The scent brought back memories from the night before. That’s right, Loks was in town. Been what, almost a year? Fuckin’ Jameson. Hit it hard before we went out. Still couldn’t remember the night, but at least I could fill in the beginning – and the very end. I was at Darty’s place, we had gotten pizza before I passed out on the floor. Loks took the futon in Darty’s room. All good. I went and got some coffee and headed home. Besides my liver, no harm no foul right?

So, this Saturday morning I woke up with only one stamp on my hand: “Circa”. Not bad, not bad. Started the night off at the Anti-Saloon League – just a hint, the password is NOT “monkey balls”. It felt like a martini night. So that’s what I got. And then I got another one. And then the Russian called, and then I went to Circa, and then I woke up.

Not bad I guess… ‘Cept it wasn’t my bed I woke up in, and there was long blond hair in my face. The Russian… She told me she loved me. I told her if she did, then she didn’t know what love was. She told me she wanted to be loved. I told her I couldn’t give her that.

She wanted the next best thing.

The sun came up, and I wanted to leave.

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4 Comments on “Eastern Promises”

  1. Matt Says:

    So Dan, if there is one thing I request of you on your trip. Find some inspiration, carry a notebook with you. Log your journeys. Write a book, you craft your words with such detail, such care. It’s really quite amazing. Consider it.

  2. danwalsh Says:

    How does a movie sound instead?

  3. Maritess Says:

    I agree with Matt.. You can create your own version of Kerouac’s “On the Road”.. except I’m sure yours will be much better and not so druggie-like.

  4. Yo, Dan. Pretty funny shit. Nice story.
    Thailand huh? That’s crazy exotic and adventurous of you – Nice job.
    Be safe, Have fun, and see you on the flipside.

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