*takes a deep breath*
/Sideshow Bob
I was about to celebrate my 18th birthday and had plans to hit a club with a bunch of guy friends and celebrate that night. I got ready for to go out and while I waited for my pickup my dad sat me down and told me to have fun but not to do anything stupid and to be back at 3 AM at the latest.
For those of you who don't know, the drinking age in Canada is 18 and while I drank before in my life, this was the first time I could drink legally. It was a big deal for this college man.
Furthermore, my dad as strict as fuck, so I better not fuck it up.
Fast forward a few hours and I'm in a club called Cathedral and this awesome party is happening, I'm accepting drinks and as planned by my friends, I get shitfaced.
AND I mean shitfaced.
I got shit-faced a few times since then but this was a kid drinking hardcore for the first time.
And that spells disaster.
I had no chance.
Fast forward a few hours....
I wake up in some cabin by myself, completely hung over. I look around wide-eyed as the colors slowly move around me as I leaned back on the comfortable bench. My head is clumsy and heavy. Minutes pass by and I eventually start to realize I am alone and feel like complete shit. I realize to my chagrin that the cabin is moving but still I cannot muster the energy to shake the cobwebs.
I think at this point I fell asleep again or I sat there shitfaced for a few hours when I felt the cabin starting to slow down. Suddenly the voice of God says, "Next stop... Kingston."
Adrenaline started pumping into my veins as the picture of my angry father came into my mind.
With huge deer eyes I stared at the upcoming train station and I came to the realization that daylight was here...
My curfew was 3 AM.
My father is going to murder me.
I look around for clues, some measure of understanding and groggily get up from my seat (an incredible feat to say the least as it took at least 3 attempts) as we come to a full stop.
I make my way outside of the train into the warm spring air and look about in astonishment of my predicament.
I'm too shitfaced to even walk straight or with any strength so I sat down on the bench heavily with my face looking up into the sky, my mouth wide open and I rest my eyes and hope the world stops spinning.
I fall asleep.
Then I wake up, maybe an hour later with a security guard asking me if "I'm O.K." then he asks me for my I.D.
I realize I no longer have my wallet. Did I leave it on the train? Did someone pickpocket me? Did my friends steal it? I never found out. The wallet was never found.
The security guard wasn't impressed and after some explaining he understood my predicament.
Let me tell you, it was a life-changing discussion with my father on the phone, who was up all night waiting for news of his sun Sunday morning. Only to get a long distance collect call from KINGSTON (4+ hours away) from his son asking for money to buy a ticket to get back to Montreal.
Needless I took a verbal licking on the phone and got setup for a real physical one once I got home.
It seemed like my friends and I drank a lot and partied hard in downtown Montreal. Walked around in the streets, drinking and somehow made our way to Central Station. There was a train leaving Montreal, heading to Toronto during the night. Someone had the bright idea to "rent a cabin" by sneaking into the station and having a good time. Like losers we drank and joked around until it was time to go. Meanwhile, I was plastered and passed out.
They forgot to wake me up and only realized after some time I wasn't there. When they got back, I was gone with the train... and this was back in the day where cell phones weren't something everyone had....
I sat down on the bench and waited for my train due in 3 hours. I put my hands in my pocket and find a small slip of paper with a phone number scribbled on it with a woman's name, Rana.
I didn't even remember who she was or how she looked like but I somehow managed to get her number.
I was impressed.
Only time later did I realize that this night was a disaster that kept on giving.... sometimes in great shocking moments of joy, other times by the means of a taser.
/Sideshow Bob
I was about to celebrate my 18th birthday and had plans to hit a club with a bunch of guy friends and celebrate that night. I got ready for to go out and while I waited for my pickup my dad sat me down and told me to have fun but not to do anything stupid and to be back at 3 AM at the latest.
For those of you who don't know, the drinking age in Canada is 18 and while I drank before in my life, this was the first time I could drink legally. It was a big deal for this college man.
Furthermore, my dad as strict as fuck, so I better not fuck it up.
Fast forward a few hours and I'm in a club called Cathedral and this awesome party is happening, I'm accepting drinks and as planned by my friends, I get shitfaced.
AND I mean shitfaced.
I got shit-faced a few times since then but this was a kid drinking hardcore for the first time.
And that spells disaster.
I had no chance.
Fast forward a few hours....
I wake up in some cabin by myself, completely hung over. I look around wide-eyed as the colors slowly move around me as I leaned back on the comfortable bench. My head is clumsy and heavy. Minutes pass by and I eventually start to realize I am alone and feel like complete shit. I realize to my chagrin that the cabin is moving but still I cannot muster the energy to shake the cobwebs.
I think at this point I fell asleep again or I sat there shitfaced for a few hours when I felt the cabin starting to slow down. Suddenly the voice of God says, "Next stop... Kingston."
Adrenaline started pumping into my veins as the picture of my angry father came into my mind.
With huge deer eyes I stared at the upcoming train station and I came to the realization that daylight was here...
My curfew was 3 AM.
My father is going to murder me.
I look around for clues, some measure of understanding and groggily get up from my seat (an incredible feat to say the least as it took at least 3 attempts) as we come to a full stop.
I make my way outside of the train into the warm spring air and look about in astonishment of my predicament.
I'm too shitfaced to even walk straight or with any strength so I sat down on the bench heavily with my face looking up into the sky, my mouth wide open and I rest my eyes and hope the world stops spinning.
I fall asleep.
Then I wake up, maybe an hour later with a security guard asking me if "I'm O.K." then he asks me for my I.D.
I realize I no longer have my wallet. Did I leave it on the train? Did someone pickpocket me? Did my friends steal it? I never found out. The wallet was never found.
The security guard wasn't impressed and after some explaining he understood my predicament.
Let me tell you, it was a life-changing discussion with my father on the phone, who was up all night waiting for news of his sun Sunday morning. Only to get a long distance collect call from KINGSTON (4+ hours away) from his son asking for money to buy a ticket to get back to Montreal.
Needless I took a verbal licking on the phone and got setup for a real physical one once I got home.
It seemed like my friends and I drank a lot and partied hard in downtown Montreal. Walked around in the streets, drinking and somehow made our way to Central Station. There was a train leaving Montreal, heading to Toronto during the night. Someone had the bright idea to "rent a cabin" by sneaking into the station and having a good time. Like losers we drank and joked around until it was time to go. Meanwhile, I was plastered and passed out.
They forgot to wake me up and only realized after some time I wasn't there. When they got back, I was gone with the train... and this was back in the day where cell phones weren't something everyone had....
I sat down on the bench and waited for my train due in 3 hours. I put my hands in my pocket and find a small slip of paper with a phone number scribbled on it with a woman's name, Rana.
I didn't even remember who she was or how she looked like but I somehow managed to get her number.
I was impressed.
Only time later did I realize that this night was a disaster that kept on giving.... sometimes in great shocking moments of joy, other times by the means of a taser.
