Matt and the Agent Orange Affair
Last Saturday Seed and Sam had a house warming get together at their new flat over in Brick Lane, it was a pretty quiet night - not the full on type of house party one might expect. But interesting all the same, this entry isn’t about that. This entry is about the morning after.
I woke up in their front room, still drunk and laid out on the sofa like a roman portrait. I’d been keeping a lid on myself the night before, as I really did not want to be in some way ill the following morning - and I wasn’t. I figure 3 hours of sleep simply isn’t enough to digest any amount of poisonous intake.
I was also very, very thirsty. Glancing around I spotted a full glass of orange juice - I assumed Joel, who was sleeping on the other couch had poured it for himself using the remainders of someone’s mixer. There wasn’t a great amount of thinking between me picking up the glass and necking the whole thing.
What followed can be summarised as half a second of ecstatic refreshment followed by one second of shock and then the immediate, horrible realisation of what had happened.
Orange and Gin, baby.
Leading on from this was around an hour of convincing myself that I had crossed into the realms where darkness lay and that the only way out was to throw up - which I couldn’t bring myself to do on the basis that such ritual may last 8 hours longer than I could bare it to.
Plan B was to crawl into bed with Jak so that I could lay with my head out of the window, being peppered by light rain and winds which kept me in the green. For some time I was fighting off sleep, as every time my eyes shut the earth span.
I can’t have been very accommodating for the rest of the day. Crawling back home via public transport throughout the evening. Still, lesson learned - pour your own damned juice.
-M.