Friday's A Pain

“You need to call the ambulance. I am in great pain. My toe is fucking bleeding!”

I can’t begin to describe the state I was in or the circumstances that led up to that point. There was alcohol, that I was sure because if there weren’t any that was coursing through my blood and killing off sensibility, logic and my liver amongst other things, then I might not have been in this plight – but I would be in a lot more pain.

I know alcohol does many wondrous things to man, like inventing spaceships, explaining pregnancies and giving courage to those who seek. I know that it makes me an extraordinary conversationalist and pick up artist because just last Wednesday I accomplished a feat in 5 sentences that some men wait a lifetime to hear.

It was a random conversation that started outside the toilet that degenerated into a debate on age.

She: “How old are you? Turning 30 at most?”
Me: “Yeah, there abouts.”
She: “I’m turning 40.”
Me: “You wanna use the cubicle first? Your bladder might not be able to hold up.”
She: “Fuck you.”

Sure she was yelling, but that’s what women do when they are trying to get a point across to men, because they think we don’t listen. The truth is, we just like to see them pissed and also that watching TV is way more interesting than hearing someone nag.

Now, the situation about me on the ground, clutching my toe in so much agony that I would have made a leper look like he was having rashes. Was alcohol trying to prove a point to my inebriated consciousness that I am too much a hazard for my own good when I am drinking?

It was a Friday night and I was sitting bare-footed by the road, wondering if my toe needed a cast, or amputation to prevent bacteria spread or maybe it just needs a kiss. And all I hear is laughter from the boys and RotiPrata hitting the ground next to me with a twig.

One hour ago…

I made a forced grin at the sight of the bottle of Hennesy perched awkwardly in the middle of the table. Alone, naked without her usual entourage of ice buckets and jugs of water and hardly the temptress that she would have been if this was a different setting.

This was a Thai disco after all, so there was hardly a need for premium spirits to be on display and neither am I a gallant binge artist for brown spirits. The taste of champagne was still lurking in my palate and from what happened earlier that night, it looked like I was on a crash course.

Girl: “Help support me. Buy flower for singer.”

I had just gotten back to the table from the washroom, hardly had the luxury of refilling my glass and now I was harassed by a girl to buy flowers. So I did the only logically thing. I started drying my hands on her garland.

To say that she was livid would be a gross injustice to her, because she was staring so hard at me I thought we were playing charades and she was trying to be Medusa. So I stared back at her because I am Perseus, son of Zeus.

Me: “Are we challenging? Your eyes are so small, you are going to lose!”

For one, the girl so ugly, even a vibrator would have said no to fucking her and she looked like she was going to throw a punch at me. Finally, RotiPrata had to drag me away because he was convinced that at some point, she would have stabbed me with her fake nails and I was going to lose the staring competition.

We ended up doing more productive stuff with our time and alcohol.

Me: “Dude. You just need to wave at the dancers, smile and shout ‘you suck’. As long as you are smiling and waving, it doesn’t matter what you say. They’ll think that you are cheering them on.”

And that’s what we did for the remainder of the night and because we were waving so frantically at them, they actually thought we loved them and that at some point, we were going to hang garlands on them. Unfortunately, we are assholes and not drunk enough to be doing stupid things.

We left, and someone thought it would be a great idea to cross the road and climb the railings to the other side, just to hail a cab. It’s one thing when you are sober, but when you are inebriated, that is akin to taking a piss in the middle of the road and gamble that you don’t get hit.

Everything was great up to that point. The night had been more about salvaging and making the best of everything, than it had been about being at a great place at a great time, but generally I wouldn’t have complained much; until I decided to kick a can at the boys.

It was a can sitting so invitingly on the railing and I had a grand plan of how I was going to execute an inspiring roundhouse kick that would have made Donnie Yen proud and how the can was going to hit one of them in the face and everyone was going to have a laugh about it. Unfortunately, I had everything wrong except for the laughing part.

I don’t even know why I decided to kick it. It was not as if I was flexible to begin with or even capable to reach the top railing with my feet. It was not as if I was being provoked or that I had a purpose that was driving my action. It was not as if I didn’t know that stretching my legs above my waist had been a problem since turning 21.

Not only did I completely miss the can, I also ended up smashing my feet into the railing. The consolation was that the can fell off due to the impact my feet caused from tragically crashing into steel.

Me: “Fffff…… FUCKKKK!!!!”

There had never been a more agonizing cry since Rocky got the crap beat out of him or when we had to sit through 4 hours of Star Awards.

Me: “My toe is bleeding!!!!”
RP: “It’s not bleeding lah, don’t be so ah gua.”
Me: “Are you fucking blind? Does this look like nail polish to you? This is blood!!”
D2: “Look up for the camera.”
Me: “I am in great pain. Do I look like I can look up? You need to call an ambulance. I need to go to the hospital.”

15 minutes later, I am sitting outside Living Room still clutching on to my toes with my socks and shoes next to me on the ground. The security is eyeing me in contempt and no one gives a shit about me.

Security: “Sorry sir, please don’t sit here.”
Me: “I can’t find my friends and my toe is in terrible pain.”

He has his ‘I don’t give a shit about your toe, but I will beat the shit out of you with my fist’ face, so I don’t even attempt to be a wise ass. I might lose a toe, so my immediate goal for the night is to protect my remaining body parts.