September 21, 2012

Blood & Absinthe

I had a “black tie” formal event in the evening. In prepping and making myself look oh so pretty, I was shaving my head with an old bic, talking on a cell phone and walking around. So, I should have expected to slip and take a one inch strip of skin from the top of my head. 

Heads bleed. 

So, finally the bleeding stops and I pop a band-aid on. I’ m not thrilled by this, as I am gonna be self conscious all nite, resplendent in my suit sporting a band-aid on top of my head. 

I get to the event- 500 movers and shakers- tuxes and sequined dresses. As it was an awards dinner, I guess everyone thought it was the Oscars.

I make my way to the bar and start pounding Ketel One and club sodas.
Social anxiety quickly melts away.

When the dinner part of the nite starts, I discover my table is right next to the bar. I slip the bartender 10 bucks and tell him to make sure my glass never hits bottom. More Ketel One and club sodas . I really like Ketel One... especially free Ketel One. 

The dinner and awards are just lovely as I continue to drink and chat with the lovely folks around me. As the event phases into the celebration part, I’m not feeling any pain and I figure, hey, I’m sure I don’t need the band-aid on top of my head anymore.

So, I take it off and start chatting up a couple of people.

Two minutes later, one of em says: “Excuse me, but your head is bleeding.”

As I reach up, my hand comes down totally red. The cut had opened, sending streams of blood down my forehead and splitting into two rivers of crimson on each side of my face.

Heads bleed.
A lot.

I rush/stagger to the bathroom and see that my face looks like something out of a Hershell Gordon Lewis flick. So, I’m washing the blood off, trying to stop the bleeding with paper towels and a guy sees me doing this and tells me he’s a paramedic and asks if I need help. I say something stupid and smart assed to him as a joke, which he doesn’t appreciate.

I get the bleeding under control and decide it might be a good time to “get out of Dodge”. My car is parked a couple of blocks away and Im still carrying a large crystal glass of Vodka. I drain the glass and “touchdown spike” it. 

Bad idea number 2.

A shard of glass rebounds and slices the meat at the base of my thumb, nicking a “main cable”.

Thumbs bleed.
A lot.

Immediately my hand starts spurting blood in rhythm with my heart. In no time at all, I am covered in blood. I get into the car and try to stop the bleeding with a bandana and a t shirt I had. It’s not working, and soon enough, my car’s interior is starting to look like the scene in Pulp Fiction when Samuel L and Travolta shoot the guy in the head. 
My nice black suit is completely covered with blood. I feel my arm getting very wet and cold as the blood is flowing towards my elbow as I’m driving home.

By the time I get home, I’m starting to sober up, which isn’t good. Sobriety = pain. So, I take off my bloody suit and access the damage. My lovely lavender shirt is ruined. Into the garbage. The suit is in bad shape, but I throw it in a bag for the dry cleaner. My white t shirt is a lovely melange of red blood tie dying the white cotton into swirls of iron rich protein based life fluid.

Punk rock.

At this point- it’s about midnite and I need to decompress- there’s a bar that just opened within walking distance of Casa Nomad. So, the first thing I have to do is bandage up my still bleeding hand. I have to wrap it in several layers of gauze (in my stupor, I actually tried to staunch the bloodflow with a maxi pad)and then an ace bandage. The head wound is easier- I bandage and a bandana converted into doo-rag. 

So I leave the house for a walk to the bar. For the 6 block walk, I pour myself a healthy tumbler of straight vodka (Svedka- it’s not Ketel One, but it’s alot less expensive). As I walk down the block, I remember that I should bring some music to listen to- so I go back to the house for my Ipod. And as I open the door, Princess Nomad is waiting for me. I have to explain the more non-incriminating events of the evening to her (luckily, I had left the tumbler of Vodka on the front steps). 

So, now, after passing muster with the Princess, I finally embark again 20 minutes later.
The balance of the evening was spent drinking Absinthe and Guinness at my new favorite drinking facility. 

I made it back to my house about 4 am- And went to greet the morning sun on my porch.

 And it took a good couple of hours to clean the car- though  some of the upholstery is still stained.

The suit couldn’t be cleaned.


justin said...

I remember going to my favorite tattoo artist pretty drunk to get some work done and after a few minutes under the needle he gets really pissed at me and tells me he won't tattoo me anymore if I'm drunk. Apparently alcohol makes you bleed more.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

Enough blood in that story to get me through the first couple months of an NHL hockey free fall.