I randomly had last Friday off (working at a cinema, it doesn't happen often), and found myself over at Max's along with Abby. Abby and I each managed to break one wine glass, both just after having been filled of course. With the wine prematurely depleted, we had no choice to move on to vodka. From there, conversation quickly devolved into random philosophy, metaphysics, entymology, art and travel. Travel specifically in the form of poorly-conceived plans to go biking in New Zealand.
Having been drunkenly advocated along with plans that involved starting a band, going to San Francisco, and various large-scale art projects, the NZ plan doesn't have great chances of actually coming to fruition. But the idea stuck with me, a bug in my brain like Ireland was last year. I could even feel it through the haze of alcohol fumes that night, until we stumbled across the highway to close down the Snake. After that, it's a blur of dancing and struggling to hear/comprehend Abby and Max.
After an unpleasant visit to the bathroom to empty my stomach, I passed out in Max's guest room. I was scheduled for a double-shift Saturday at both the bookstore and the theatre, so I stumbled out of bed at 7:00am and chugged a few glasses of water before driving home to get ready. Turns out that was a really bad idea. Luckily, I made it home okay just in time to throw up all the water I drank. It was about that point that I realized I was still pretty drunk, and called in sick to the bookstore. Then I went back to bed for another five hours.
Still, New Zealand...
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