Go to a Bar

I pry my eyes open and squint towards my nightstand, the light flooding through the window hurting my eyes. My eyes shut further the longer they stay open, as I try to keep out the offending sun. My hand searches my nightstand for my phone. The bottom edge of my phone connects with my fingers and I bring it down with me as I roll myself out of bed.

My back hits the floor and I watch as my phone follows and hits me square in the nose. A groan escapes my lips and I take it off of my face. I turn the screen on and look at the time, a big “8:35” showing across the top of my screen. I shake my head a little and squeeze my eyes shut, as the realization that I overslept starts setting in. Oh, fuck.

I stretch out a little and stare up at the ceiling for a minute before I take my phone off of my face and **** myself to get up. Half-finished thoughts flood my head, as I try to re-orient myself. Fuck. Alright, it’s too late to actually do almost anything productive today. Might as well get fucking slammed.

I get dressed, grab my phone, wallet, and keys, and head out the door. As I get in my car and turn it on, the little voice of rationality in the back of my head starts talking at me. “Don’t drink too much. It’s hard enough to keep yourself safe when you’re completely sober- get too wasted and you’re fucked.” I mumble to myself, mocking the little rationality I’ve been able to keep over time.

My conflicting thoughts melt out of my head as soon as I pull into the bar’s parking lot and the smell of **** hits me from everyone drinking on the porch. Ah. Home sweet home. My mouth pulls up into a little smile and I feel my anxiety starting to melt off of me.

The door swings open in front of me and I slip into the bar behind someone who just left. The true smell of the bar slams into me full ****, almost pushing me back from reaching the counter. A familiar bartender walks over to me, a smile covering his face. My own expression shifts to match Kris’s, the sight of someone friendly soothing my anxieties. “Hey, Jaden. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I know, man. I’ve just been trying to keep myself safe. It’s... I mean, you know how LA is. You can’t make it two steps without bumping into some famous dickhead, so it’s rough.”

“I can imagine, especially looking like that,” he quips, gesturing at me. We laugh to each other a bit, a cloud of reality hanging over the conversation. “So, you want a Rum and Coke?”

“You know it, baby.” I watch Kris as he starts working his magic, ****, ice, his shaker, and a glass all blending together in a haze of future hangover. He finishes up quickly and slides my drink over to me. I catch it and almost immediately turn it up to take a drink. The liquid stings a little as it flows down my throat and I close my eyes, letting the feeling wash over me.

I finish my first Rum and Coke and look down to see Kris still in front of me. He raises an eyebrow at me expectantly. “Fuck that’s good.” He smirks, before quickly making me a new drink. “Thanks man.” I grab my drink and head off into the crowd of drunken people surrounding me. Even with a drink inside me and another in my system, I still keep watch for anyone who even looks famous.

I start to amble through the crowd, taking small drinks every once in a while. My eyes wander around the room, trying to keep inventory of the people around me. Can’t get too drunk. Can’t get distracted. Can’t stop paying att- My thoughts cut off as my body hits a figure in front of me. I snap back to paying attention, horror flooding through me as I realize what I’ve done. Please don’t be famous, please don’t be famous.