Thursday, February 11, 2010

That third mojito might have been a mistake.

So it's the day after the birthday. Which is a hard place to be, because I am hungover.

Actually, I was hungover before I fell asleep last night. Not a great way to crawl into bed. But I was already hungover because the evening was long past, and it was 1am, and I had smoked at least half a dozen cigarettes, which is unusual for me. I don't smoke every day, but I smoke. And I've been smoking for a good long time. I've written lengthy essays, odes to smoking. To the habit, to the experience, to the bonding that you can only find with others who have been banished to the far reaches of a parking lot where they huddle, in the wind and rain, desperately sucking away at leaves wrapped in paper.

No, not really. I don't smoke enough to do that. I smoke when it's convenient. I smoke when I have cigarettes. I smoke when I want to. I smoke when I don't mind smelling like cigarettes. I smoke when I'm drinking, I smoke when I drive alone late at night. I smoke after a shift at the restaurant. I used to smoke in bars, but you can't do that any more.....not even in Bangkok, where you can do whatever the fuck you want. Except, apparently, smoke in bars. The party is over.

Like my birthday. That party is over too. I am officially a member of the grownups.

So far, my time as a 35 year old has been spent getting my hair done, trolling Office Max, and wandering the streets into the wee hours with a rowdy group - most of whom we picked up in the gas station parking lot.

Don't ask - but they had fresh tattoos and a bottle of whiskey.

No comments: