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Been There, Done That, Bought the T-Shirt
By
Just a teensy word of warning before you start...
I've hidden a few bits of smut within the storyline... (Now don't go skipping ahead! If you're good and you read through the whole thing, I'll give you a biscuit) Okay, so grrl-grrl action herein, understood? Great. Consider yourself warned....
Journal Entry
September 30th
10:35 pm: Remember this day. When she comes to you next week
all dressed up, smelling so nice, and tells you how much she misses you, remember
the hell you went through today and be strong.
I am massively pissed. The concert was a total bust. No... this entire day was
a bust.
I woke up with the mother of all hangovers. (Note to self... tell Robin &
Julie no next time they want to go out and commiserate on relationship woes.)
Work sucked. Mitchell waited until
4:30 to deposit a mountain of month end reports in my in box. So I had to stay
late to finish up, of course. Because of that, I was running late--took the
412 home-- big mistake. Almost wrecked into an idiot who decided to take a shortcut
and drive on the shoulder of the road. By the time I got home, it was quarter
to seven.
I showered, dressed in my usual concert gear--black jeans and a white t-shirt--and
waited.
And this is where the downward spiral really begins... with Cheryl, as usual.
She stood me up... again.
A half an hour before we were supposed to meet, she called and said she wasn't
feeling well... her allergies. I'm sorry, but take a damn Benedryl if your allergies
are that bad! She's not fooling me. We've been planning this for months and
suddenly, a little stuffy head is more important than seeing Melissa?
She was faking. I just know it.
It's the attitude. She's been strange for weeks, distant even, ever since she
went on that business trip to Denver. I hate to play the jealous girlfriend,
but I just know something's going on here. I can feel it.
So anyway, I was pissed but wasn't going to let both tickets just go to waste.
I decided to go by myself. When I got to the arena, I gave Cheryl's other ticket
away to some young girl outside the gate. She was cute at least, petite, nice
smile. I'm such a sucker when it comes to the redheads. Jumping up and down
most distractingly, she squealed and then offered to buy me a beer. The night
started looking better. I thought of Cheryl and all the arguments we'd been
having lately, and said sure. I followed her through the gates. We both gave
our tickets to the women at the gate. But the one who took my ticket was pickier
than the rest. She had to stop and inspect it. After an endless three or four
minutes, she tore the damn ticket and passed me through. Once inside, I looked
around for the little redhead, but the crowd had swallowed her up.
The place was packed. Women everywhere. You could tell everyone was very jazzed
about the show. There was a buzz in the air... and I'm not just talking about
the reek of marijuana from the lawn seats.
I milled about for awhile, following the ebb and flow of the crowd. It felt
weird cruising solo like that. You don't notice how many couples there are in
the world until you're out alone. It was like Noah's arc and all the other species
were two-by-two already. Very disheartening. But really, I was having a decent
time just observing others and exploring the place, doing my usual loner thing.
That is, until I saw Debbie Gustafson.
She and her new girlfriend were among the hundreds crowding the T-shirt stand.
They didn't seem to care that they were being mercilessly jostled as hoards
of women struggled to get near the extra larges. It was embarrassing to witness
two grown, mature women resorting to baby talk in public. They only needed cartoon
birds circling their heads to complete the picture of absolute happiness. Arms
wound around each other's waists and there was way too much nuzzling going on.
One look told me they were still on that sickeningly sweet, newlywed kind of
high. Not something I felt like sharing.
It was obvious they were in love. The only problem is, when you feel like that,
you want the whole world to be happy too. Debbie and I were good friends. Normally
I would have said hello and maybe hung out with them; but I just couldn't handle
a detailed account of her shiny, new bliss just then. I didn't want to be happy.
I was in an Eyore mood.
I sighed and ducked into the Ladies.
For about ten minutes, I waited in the noxious smelling bathroom, avoiding the
curious looks directed at me as I leaned against the wall. It was just like
any other public restroom, filthy and full of primping femmes. Even worse than
listening to all the girl talk, was the horrid hurling noises coming from the
fourth stall on the left. Every so often, the sounds of retching would echo
against the dirty, white tiles, followed by moaning and then a flush.
Gross.
I came out from hiding a short while later and joined the press of people heading
to the concession stand. After waiting in line for almost an hour for a flat,
tepid beer, I found my seat, Row C, aisle center, still looking around for the
little redhead. The opening act started up just as the sun went down. I was
just settling in, happily enjoying the music, my beer, and people watching when
a heavyset chick toting a homemade 'Marry Me Melissa' sign, tapped me on the
shoulder. She and her four, very drunk friends wanted by me to get to their
seats. I swiveled my knees to the side, scrunching up my legs ( not an easy
process when you're as tall as I am) as they pushed past me. And then the last
chick, thinking she'd spied a friend a couple of aisles away, tried to wave
and instead stumbled, spilling a whole cardboard tray loaded with beers onto
my lap.
Naturally, I yelled 'Oh shit!'
The singer missed a beat and for at least three seconds, the entire place went
silent.
There I was, my black jeans sporting a nice coating of frothy, white foam, face
red, and a thousand people craning their heads to look at me.
So I did the only thing I could
think to do.
I got up and left.
At least the T-shirt stand was empty. On my way out, I bought a T-shirt and
then made my way back to my car.
Driving home, I'd nearly reached boiling point. I'd taken the long way back,
just so I could calm down a little. The entire miserable evening was Cheryl's
fault, I decided. It wasn't much of a stretch. She is the author of all my miseries.
But the coup de grace of this evening of horror was yet to come. As I pulled
into my driveway, a yowling screech and a tiny thump made me jump on the gas.
I nearly drove through the garage door. Quickly, I stomped the breaks and threw
the car into park. I got out of the car and circled around to the back, bending
over to see what I'd hit. A bit of white fur was wedged under that back left
tire. I groaned and said another 'Oh shit.' The rest of Snowball, the neighbor's
cat, was a bloody streak on the cement.
I'm not fond of cats but I'd never hurt one on purpose. My neighbor didn't seem
to believe me when I said it was an accident. She screamed for about five minutes
and then she started to cry. I felt like a total shit.
A half hour later, after much groveling and a promise that I'd by her a new
cat, I trudged across the lawn to my house and let myself in the front door.
I was so frustrated, I wanted to
punch a hole in the wall.
But I didn't.
My living room walls are starting to look like Swiss cheese. I wrote everything
down instead. It helped a little, but the urge to call Cheryl and scream till
I'm hoarse is still with me. Calling would be a waste of time anyway. I'd just
get her answering machine and I'm tired of venting in 30 second increments.
I think I'll just go to bed now and tomorrow, I'll try to pretend like this
day never happened.
Journal Entry
September 30th
7:35 am: Had the weirdest dream last night. It was so real!
We're talking technicolor, surround-sound, smell-a-vision vivid! It wasn't the
usual dream--you know, the one with the endless stairs that get skinnier and
more rickety as they climb into the sky. This one was a real slice of life!
I can't write about it now, though. My head is about to explode. I have the
mother of all hangovers. (Note to self... tell Robin & Julie no next time
they want to go out and commiserate on relationship woes.) Must go overdose
on Tylenol.
10:45 pm: This has been the freakiest day ever. Major deja
vu all day long... to the point where I'm starting to think I've gone mental.
Work was weird, but I thought it was just the hangover talking. But then, at
lunch, somehow I knew the lady in front of me was going to order a Reuben without
the onions and then complain about the soggy bread. Maybe that's not an extraordinary
insight, but it threw me for a second.
When I got back to work, two hours later, I knew that my computer was going
to freeze up. I dialed tech support about three minutes before it happened without
even realizing it. And then, at about 4:25, I had this sudden urge to cut out
early. I should have followed the impulse, because five minutes later Mitchell
showed up with a ton of month end reports. I sat there and just looked at them
for the longest time, my head spinning, until I shook off the feeling. I had
the concert to look forward to so I tried not to get too weirded out. As quickly
as I could, I finished up and then headed home.
Even driving home, I had the notion that I'd been through all this before. I
took the 412 and almost got hit by some idiot driving on the shoulder of the
road. I knew that would happen too.
By the time I got home, I'd forgotten most of it, thinking instead about the
concert and Cheryl.
I was hoping that we could spend some time mending fences, that maybe having
a little fun would lighten things up between us. All we do is argue lately.
Not to be. She called about 30 minutes before we were supposed to meet and said--
(and I quote)
'I'm sorry. I'm not going to be able to make it tonight, babe. It's my allergies.
You know how bad it gets. Plus, being outdoors would just make it worse. You
understand don't you, baby? Love you. (Fake sneeze.) Gotta go now, bye.'
After we hung up, I tried to get mad about it. I knew she was lying. Dumped
again at the last minute--this was nothing new. I should be really pissed. But
I felt strangely deflated, as if I had been expecting her to call and cancel
all along. That's silly, isn't it?
Usually, after a call like that, I start raging and do something stupid, like
punch a hole in the wall. But this time I didn't. Instead, in a kind of daze,
I very calmly found my keys and went to the concert alone.
It was near dusk when I arrived. A steady stream of women were heading toward
the arena. As I approached the gate, I found myself looking around expectantly...
not sure why. Then I noticed a redheaded girl holding a sign that said she wanted
tickets. There were others with signs, too. But something about the redheaded
girl struck me as oddly familiar.
I gave her the once over, not too obviously I hoped, and tried to place her
face. Where had I seen her before? She was very pretty but also very young,
which precluded the possibility that we had gone out before. I never dated girls
that young.
Catching my eye as I glanced at her yet another time, she smiled and this struck
another chord of recognition within me.
'Any second now,' I thought. 'She's going to ask me if I have a ticket to spare
a poor, young college student having Melissa withdrawals.'
And I'll be damned if she didn't say just that! It spooked me so much, I shied
away, brushing past as if I hadn't heard her. As a matter of fact, my cage was
so rattled by all the strange stuff that had happened today, I didn't even notice
Debbie Gustafson until I'd practically walked into her.
It was a nightmare. She was with her new girlfriend, Sandy, a pretty brunette
that was nearly as tall as me. She was very sweet and quite intelligent. Debbie
is one of my best friends and Sandy seemed like a nice girl. I just really didn't
want to hang out with them, though. I was in an Eyore mood.
They were, of course, disgustingly in love. And so, for about an hour, I was
subjected to more touchy-feely PDA's than I care to remember. And, worse yet,
they kept addressing each other by their pet names: 'kitten' and 'honey' and
'sweetie' and 'pumpkin.' I thought I was going to spew.
They tried to get me to sit with them up in the lawn, but the idea of watching
them cuddle while Melissa sang about the heartbreak of being dumped was more
than I could bear. I couldn't stick around. I wanted to be alone to commune
with Melissa's international anthems of lesbian angst. I thought of Cheryl and
gritted my teeth.
'I can't sit up in the lawn seats,' I told them. 'Allergies.'
Distorted mumblings over the loud speakers told us the opening band was setting
up. I excused myself, promising to call them next week, and then went to find
my seat.
At least the interlude with Debbie and Sandy had given me the opportunity to
shake the persistent deja vu that had been haunting me all day. But it came
back twice as fierce as I looked for my seat. Actually, I didn't have to look
at all. I knew where it was without even checking my ticket stub. I
found it and sank into my seat, trying in vain to calm down. My heart was going
ninety miles a minute. I felt queasy but I certainly wasn't going to embarrass
myself by hurling in front of a thousand people.
I shouldn't have worried about making a fool of myself--it was bound to happen
whether I wanted it to or not. A little while later, some drunk girls asked
to get by me to get to their seats. As they staggered past, one of them tripped
and spilled a tray full of beers all over me.
I don't know if reality can truly be rendered into slow motion. But that moment
happened with such surprising clarity. It was as if I could break down and analyze
each tiny drop as it cascaded through the air. With a horrified resignation,
I watched it happen. The daze lifted when the cold liquid hit my lap. I gasped
and let out an "Oh shit!" that caused the air to suddenly go still. I could
feel a thousand eyes turning to rest on me. My mouth went dry.
Even that, I had expected.
Starting up out of my seat, I pushed my way through the crowd. I remember thinking,
'Jesus, what the hell is happening to me?' The question kept going over and
over through my head. But no answers came.
I spied the T-shirt stand on the way out. At least I'd get something out of
this night, I reasoned. I bought one and staggered off to my car.
I drove home slow, trying to process all the strangeness of the day. I wasn't
really paying attention to the road. I suppose that's why, when I turned into
my driveway, I didn't see Snowball. All I heard was a screech. I slammed on
the brakes. But then I froze.
This wasn't a surprise either, was it? I got out and looked. I knew what I would
see, just like I knew my neighbor would scream and cry.
Do people just develop ESP all of a sudden? Maybe I am mental. Well, beyond
my normal levels of weird.
No, it's just the hangover, a side
effect of the near alcohol poisoning. Yes. That must be it. It's just a bunch
of coincidences accented by a pulsing migraine and too much Tylenol.
I'm never drinking again. I'm going to go to bed and pretend this day never
happened.
JOURNAL ENTRY
September 30th a.m.
7:32 am: Gone! What the hell? Checked journal first thing.
Everything I wrote is gone! Then ran to computer. The date in the corner says
September 30th. I called information. Though the operator had that 'humor the
crazy person' voice, she told me the date and time--September 30th 7:45 a.m.
I say again--What the hell?
This is so not right! Where is yesterday's entry? The T-shirt I bought is gone
too! I looked EVERYWHERE. What is happening to me? I know I didn't dream all
that... not unless it was some nightmarish dream-within-a-dream kind of thing.
That stuff only happens on television, right?
But it wasn't just a dream! Or even
a dream within a dream. I know it! It was all real... really real!
I know... hang on. One more thing I need to check....
7:38 am: The tickets are still here, still whole... not torn
in half like they should be.
7:45 am: I am totally wigging. Not sure what to do.
7:50 am: Called in sick. Mitchell was pissed--complained about
month ends getting behind.
I'm going back to bed now. Maybe when I wake up, this mess will all have worked
itself out.
3:50 pm: Mess still here. Tickets still in one piece. No t-shirt.
Went outside to see if the world had somehow ended while I slept. Snowball was
sitting on my front stoop. I just about had a mini-stroke.
This is so not right! This morning's entry is here, but all the stuff I wrote
before is still gone. I feel like I'm stuck in the Twilight Zone... and not
even a really good Rod Serling tongue-pulsing-in-a-jar kind of episode.
I knew all that trippy shit I did in college was going to catch up to me someday.
4:02 pm: My first thought was to call Cheryl. I should've known
better. At least, her answering machine was very sympathetic--wished me a nice
day.
'Just which day do you mean?' I screamed after the beep and then slammed down
the phone.
Since calming down was my only option, I did. It's 4:30. I'm going back to bed.
--still September 30th--(I think)
7:06 p.m Great. The concert's already started. Good news. Hangover's
gone.
7:26 p.m. Checked my machine. Cheryl left her allergy speech--it's
verbatim... exactly the same as I remembered. The madness is still with me apparently.
7:35 p.m. Going to Cheryl's
9:48 p.m. I KNEW IT!!!! I just knew it! That lying little tramp!
Did she really think I'd never find out?
10:55 p.m. Hand's bleeding. Punched another hole in the living
room wall. The good news is Snowball's still alive and well... and in my house.
I opened the front door tonight and he darted in. He is now perched on top of
my kitchen cabinets. Am going to find the broom after I patch up hand.
11:30 p.m. Hand hurts like hell. Took pain pill. Snowball still
on top of kitchen cabinets. I don't care. Stupid cat.
11:37 p.m. Going
to bed. This today BETTER NOT be here tomorrow!
Oh hell, I know what I mean...
To be continued...