Monday, 10 April 2017

Would You Just... Drink a Coke?

Well that didn't work. Totally went out. Totally drank. The old me would use that as excuse to hate self, drink more, stay out, ruin everything, give up.

But that's not happening. So I'm afraid you're getting a post in the middle of the night, about nothing, rambling and disjointed. It's all I can do, it's better than nothing.

Long, tough shift, the kind you put your head down and grind out. Stop talking to each other, stop planning for later, just make your world smaller, what you have to do right now, what you have to do next, and do it. Professional bartender weathering the storm. Serving two at once, telling third and fourth they're next, showing you're in charge, showing there's no room for anyone getting angry. Everything goes slick, quiet, involved. Wine from fridge and put prosecco away while there; pour with one hand while reaching for Pepsi glass; wash a jigger while pouring Pepsi, pass wine across because heard someone on other side ordering; do little dance to keep your body moving; look left and right, judging who's just arrived, who needs serving next; swallow anger at lads leaning forward trying to push in; stay calm, smile, keep mood light; do it again, and again, and again...

I don't know, maybe I don't do that. Maybe I wish I did. But I certainly try. And a long shift of trying sure takes it out of me.

Then everyone meeting for Lauren's birthday. And I didn't drink, for the first two hours. And then I drank slowly, and skipped rounds, and didn't do shots or anything. And then it was West Street Live and there was that familiar feeling that if we're here we should be going for this, music rising, desire rising, get doubles and fuck ourselves up and we don't care, we're washing away, let's get washed away together beautiful ending of all things race into music and togetherness and it's all gone so give ourselves away to this final thing lose ourselves in alcohol and noise and each other, go past and past and past...

Yet I stopped myself at that brink. I got a Coke. I hugged everyone, made sure Lauren knew she was loved, I walked out, I got in a taxi and sped away into the morning.

And now here I am, 0310, sat in bed, knowing I could have been better, glad I was not worse.

It's a long, tough road. But I'm getting there.

Day off tomorrow. See you then.

1 comment:

  1. Every road is made of little steps!
    Sounds like you were very much in the now during your shift even if you let yourself go a bit after 😄
    Enjoying reading your "ramblings"