Friday, February 27, 2015
awake stupid hours
sleep early nights
I had $20 in my pocket to grab a couple of drinks. The bandages on my left eye made me look like a mess. What I night I had staying at the hospital for 6 hours and here I am heading to the bar. The bartender took my order and slid me a whiskey with ice. I took a sip and started reflecting last night's debacle
Kyle, Chris & I went down to the Shaw Skate Park after work. It was around 8pm and the park was closed, but we climbed the fence and started skating anyway. While riding the bowls I noticed a guy sitting on the park bench under a sidewalk light smoking a cigarette. He looked at us, threw the butt, & walked away.
We kept riding until four hispanic gangsters walked up. You could smell the pot as they passed it around before climbing the fence. As they approached us I started getting nervous. "What up homie! Ya'll mothafuckas alone here?".The four approached Chris and started asking him questions.
At one point an altercation started rising. I was on the other side of the park and rode toward Chris to break it up. The argument got louder and louder and suddenly I was pushed over the bank ledge. While piled on top of two, Kyle was getting beaten up by the rest while Chris ran and jumped the fence. It was a blur throughout the beating, but my adrenaline built up and at one point fought back slamming my fist on on of the guys' face.
They ran with all the stuff we had in our pockets as Chris stared at us in a bloody mess. We quickly climbed the fence, called the cops, & drove to the hospital to get checked up. Chris without a scratch as Kyle and I were taped up and stapled. It was embarrassing. It took 6 hours to get help. I didn't go to work the following morning.
And here I am at the bar. I grabbed my cup and took a drink. I felt overwhelmed and almost cried. The thought enraged me as I should've given it my all, but felt weak and vulnerable.
The whole night I babied my cup. I think I only ordered that one whisky. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to go to the bar because that night I decided to not talk to Chris anymore. He should've gotten his ass beat too. I finished my cup, paid the bartender, and walked home. I laid in bed, turned on the tv & went to sleep.
Here's a list of things i'm not very good at. I'm sure this is pretty stupid, but what the hell.
I'm not good at:
2. Liking sports
3. Doing drugs
4. Drinking coffee (I still do it anyway)
5. Being emotional
8. Making friends
9. Being an asshole
10. Liking new stuff
11. Liking old stuff
13. Being religious
14. Being an atheist
15. Being an adult
16. Staying young
17. Being honest
A church full of neighbors, friends, high school students, and military personnel I look around and am taken of the surroundings. I focus towards a box made out of wood and plastic with neat details of beige and chrome. It's contents are of a person who shaped me. A person before the burial.
And a eulogy describes him. Describes his character. His embrace of his eclectic children. His wife who will widow a lifetime. He speaks words... words I'll never forget.
And I sit there... and wait... and gently bow my head down. The sobbing elevates and I'm quiet. I listen. I'm long haired with a button shirt holding tears. I see the box lifted to the church door. 3 military's and 2 brothers they stuff in the back of the car. The crowd stares tearing up my loss. I have no words. I walk quietly out the door.