When I was a teen the trick to get out of the house to go drinking was to tell my parents I was going to see a movie (it's amazing how many movies I didn't "see"). This one particular night our gang had been invited to a party near the Lougheed Mall. I didn't know the people having the party, they must have been friends of friends, but they got to know me pretty quick as the guest you don't want to invite back. There were a couple of bottles of Bacardi with the Coke mixed right in and I was swilling out of these like a man (well boy actually) on a mission. After getting completely smashed I think I may have stepped outside for some air or maybe we were heading to Denny's for some fries and gravy, I really don't remember which. I do recall getting separated from my posse and almost getting my head taken off by the side view mirror of a passing black Dodge van (I think I remember that because I wanted one at the time, with those bubble windows near the back) trying to cross the street at the corner of Austin and North Rd. I was literally right out of control, bordering on helpless. I stumbled into Denny's looking for my mates but they were nowhere to be found (considering the condition I was in the events of this evening are remarkably clear) so I headed out to try to find the party again.
This area is densely populated with apartments and they all looked the same to me so I just started pushing some buzzers on buildings that I thought looked familiar to absolutely no avail. I was totally lost and by now desperate. Suddenly out of nowhere my buddies (if I could call them that) showed up and in my drunken stupor started thanking them profusely for coming to find me when one of them said,"We weren't even looking for you." Ouch... it's nice to know your friends have your back but in the shape I was in I can hardly blame them.
As we are making our way back to the party (I think I was carrying a half dozen albums under my arm) I was walking with my hands in my pockets. We had to step over one of those concrete barrier things that are about two feet high and I caught my right foot on it. Result? A perfect face plant onto my left cheekbone, hands still in pockets. I don't really think I felt a thing (gee, I wonder why?). When we arrived back to the party I was checking the damage out in the mirror, trying to wipe the wound off so my parents wouldn't see it when I proceeded to get sick all over the bathroom. I tried cleaning it up as best I could but I was useless and we were out of there.
I didn't know it at the time but when I paid my fair for the bus ride home I had dropped my house key in there as well (Dad never got mad at me for much but for some reason if I lost my house key or left the door unlocked he was furious). I get to the front door and I can't find my key anywhere. I must have been in pretty bad shape because by buddy Ian (he had my back after all) had walked me up to the door. Our place was on the ground floor so he went around back to see if he could get in through a window. I had these five louvres in my bedroom window and if you removed them you could crawl through the opening. I remember standing there staring at the front door just hoping he didn't wake my folks up. The door opened up, Ian let me in and I stumbled up to the sweet comfort of my room. To this day I have no idea how Ian took those louvres out and let me in without waking my parents, they always woke up... it must be some sort of drinking miracle.
As was the custom on Saturday mornings, Mom would come in vacuuming at 7:00 AM or earlier (I think she loved doing that). While she was vacuuming I popped my head up from under the covers and took a look (eskimo peeping tom... Tom Tookaluk) at my mug in the mirror on top of the dresser. What a mess. Teary black eye, swollen shut, scraped and bloody... look away, I'm hideous. Mom takes one look at me and says, "What have you done?.... Go downstairs and show your father." Sitting in his chair, Dad takes one look at me and I realize I've got to come up with a good answer and quick. I thought it was pretty clever when I said, "After the movie I was running for the bus so I could make it home on time when I tripped on the curb and fell." To which Dad immediately replied, " Sure... you were probably walking drunk with your hands in your pockets and fell on your head." I couldn't believe it. How could he know? Is he psychic? I think it was that moment I knew that Dad was way smarter than I had given him credit for. I stuck by my story but I still can't get over that line, "Sure, you were probably walking drunk with your hands in your pockets..."
2 comments:
He he he! I tell my kids that parents know everything!
I remember drinking and pulling shenanigans on Halloween...sneaking around a tiny little town...the cops were coming so we took off running...and I fell into a dry, abandoned well. THAT was quite a surprise!
BD
When I was about fifteen I went on a 'walkabout' with a couple of pals and a 26 of Vodka... most of which I drank...
My friend Scott was staying at my house that night, so he had to make sure I got home. As it was, another friend of ours, Russell, had arrived home drunk and his mother had set off the alarm that there were drunken teens out there in need of assistance... actually, we were quite happy to make our own way home without assistance or detection, but alas, the jig was up.
My Pop showed up in his car and took us home.
As we drove home he asked me if I was drunk.
Not wanting to confess, and not noticing that I was covered in dirt from head to toe and had a cut on my hand that was bleeding, I slurred no.
So he asked me to recite a tongue twister: Tinker, Tailor,Soldier, Sailor.
Somehow, I absolutely nailed it.
He laughed, my Mom fussed, cleaned me up and I promptly passed out upon laying on my pillow.
Not much was said the next day and I don't think my friend ever stayed over again.
From then on I always stayed at his house because his parents were divorced and his Dad was never around. Sometimes coming from a broken home had its merits.
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