Great Falls of our Time - Volume 1
Now as a man whose love affair with kissing tarmac (or rock, wood, brick or in fact just any old surface) has been more passionate than the Pope’s, it can be said that I have had quite a few falls in my time. Down hills, over walls, down stairs, off bikes, off ladders, into an open manhole (yes, really) or just basically arse over tit, I’ve done them all. However there are two which I still lay claim to being the most spectacular or just plain ridiculous of the bunch.
Leeds. 1996. I had finished work about 10 (making pizzas you know) and myself and the waitress (a rather attractive young woman who for the sake of decency we shall refer to as Miss P.) had decided to go out for a drink.
Drink..Dance..Flirt..Dance..Drink..Flirt..Taxi..
So we arrive back home, where we find my housemates to be up. I sit on the arm of the chair while Miss P sits in the chair, head on my lap.
Drink..Chat..Flirt..Stroke Hair..Drinks..Chat..Flirt
Now, at this point someone passes round a joint. Now let’s be clear, I was never that good with the old hash,weed,wacky baccy, doobage, etc etc etc. It was generally a bad idea. When I was already drunk it was a terrible idea. When I was already drunk and things were looking promising, it was possible the worst idea since Ben Affleck.
Drink..Chat..Flirt..Smoke..Feel Woozy..Feel Sick..
Now I may be sick, I need to get upstairs to the toilet and fast. Obviously I can’t let her know I’m feeling ill, gotta keep the chance alive and keep the door ajar (although I’m probably bright green by this point). So I mumble the best excuse my newly stoned and drunk mind can manage, something so clever and devilish she’ll never know I’m going to be sick. Something so fiendish that…
“juss gonna go ‘n have a shit”
Yes I know, I know, hardly classy. Let’s face it my chances of a romantic entanglement ended there. But just in case there was any chance - any chance at all -I had better balls it up completely.
I stagger to the open doorway, and step-by-step slowly climb the stairs. I must add that I am being watched for this entire trip through the open doorway (see diagram, I have lovingly marked the positions of Miss P and myself for you). And I almost make it. Almost. I miss the top step, fly backwards, miss almost all of the steps on the way down and hit the polished wooden floor of the wall - hard. Then I proceed to slide the couple of metres required for my head to hit the front door.
This is where I remain, suffering a combination of pain, stonedness (funnily enough I didn’t feel sick anymore) and sheer embarrassment for about half an hour until her taxi arrives. I have to move my head slightly to let her open the door as she steps over me. Not the best ending to a night and the final icing on the cake came after I woke up, three hours later, in the same place with a sleeping bag thrown on me and my head in a small pool of cat pee. Special.
tags:[falls]
Published by euzie.
Leeds. 1996. I had finished work about 10 (making pizzas you know) and myself and the waitress (a rather attractive young woman who for the sake of decency we shall refer to as Miss P.) had decided to go out for a drink.
Drink..Dance..Flirt..Dance..Drink..Flirt..Taxi..
So we arrive back home, where we find my housemates to be up. I sit on the arm of the chair while Miss P sits in the chair, head on my lap.
Drink..Chat..Flirt..Stroke Hair..Drinks..Chat..Flirt
Now, at this point someone passes round a joint. Now let’s be clear, I was never that good with the old hash,weed,wacky baccy, doobage, etc etc etc. It was generally a bad idea. When I was already drunk it was a terrible idea. When I was already drunk and things were looking promising, it was possible the worst idea since Ben Affleck.
Drink..Chat..Flirt..Smoke..Feel Woozy..Feel Sick..
Now I may be sick, I need to get upstairs to the toilet and fast. Obviously I can’t let her know I’m feeling ill, gotta keep the chance alive and keep the door ajar (although I’m probably bright green by this point). So I mumble the best excuse my newly stoned and drunk mind can manage, something so clever and devilish she’ll never know I’m going to be sick. Something so fiendish that…
“juss gonna go ‘n have a shit”
Yes I know, I know, hardly classy. Let’s face it my chances of a romantic entanglement ended there. But just in case there was any chance - any chance at all -I had better balls it up completely.
I stagger to the open doorway, and step-by-step slowly climb the stairs. I must add that I am being watched for this entire trip through the open doorway (see diagram, I have lovingly marked the positions of Miss P and myself for you). And I almost make it. Almost. I miss the top step, fly backwards, miss almost all of the steps on the way down and hit the polished wooden floor of the wall - hard. Then I proceed to slide the couple of metres required for my head to hit the front door.
This is where I remain, suffering a combination of pain, stonedness (funnily enough I didn’t feel sick anymore) and sheer embarrassment for about half an hour until her taxi arrives. I have to move my head slightly to let her open the door as she steps over me. Not the best ending to a night and the final icing on the cake came after I woke up, three hours later, in the same place with a sleeping bag thrown on me and my head in a small pool of cat pee. Special.
tags:[falls]
Published by euzie.
|