Post-Modern Drunk: Long Night's Journey Into Day
Yesterday was Mixtape Girl's goodbye party, as she is heading off to graduate school in England. It was a suitably drunken evening: assemble at a friend's apartment with a bottle of wine apiece, open said wine, drink it until it's all gone, dip into the hostess's stocks until those run dry, go to a bar, drink until last call, then go home.

Simple, right? Yet somehow I managed to screw that last step up horribly.

I think the alcohol had something to do with it, but when I got onto the train in Brooklyn, I fell immediately asleep. And didn't wake up for a long time.

A long long long time.

I got on the train in Fort Greene, in Brooklyn. I live five stops short of the end of the A train, in upstate Manhattan. It's an hour long trip, at the very least, at that time of night. I slept until my train got to the end of the line. The train then turned around. I continued sleeping. The train passed the stop I initially got on at. I started to stir.

The train got to five stops short of the other end of the line. I woke up and, well, freaked the fuck out.

Then I went back to sleep, only to wake up as my train pulled into my stop. Four hours later than I expected.

The A Train is the longest subway line in New York City, 31 miles long. I rode the length of it twice. Plus the 20 miles that I originally had to travel just to get home from my party.

Next time you see me do something this stupid, please be kind enough to mug me or stab me or something, so I learn my lesson.

Thank you, that is all.

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