Torrential downpour. What. The. Fuck.
Really? Isn’t it June? Boston, $#&^@!!! New England weather.
I try to figure my way to work. Charliecards, I still know how to work them. Train or bus? Which will it be? Let’s go for bus; it’ll be quicker.
Big mistake. Traffic was bad, but not as bad as Manila or Bangkok so I’m not even going to complain. I watch the numbers on the clock at the front of the bus. Minutes after minutes after minutes passed. I stood, of course, soaked on a crowded bus filled with wet people. I couldn’t even enjoy the view out the rain-covered windows of the 1 bus. All I could think of; the day can’t get any worse than this.
I walk straight to the office, sheepishly stared at the bosses. Over an hour late, my first day back.
Michael, my travel partner/former-roommate/co-worker/friend forever, just as late as I was shakes his disapproval at me; soaking wet, disheveled. But there was that smirk. Nothing really changes.
I work through my shift. Easy. I don’t bother remembering the new people that were introduced to me. Are you kidding? I get caught up with the gossip. Who broke up. Who got together. Who quit. Who got fired. Say what? Guy came to work drunk then walked out with a guests’ credit card? Fantastic. What else?
Close to midnight and I get phased.
The end of the night finally came and that’s when it really began. Everyone’s going to the party, right? Hurried nods, and shouts of confirmation from across halls as most everyone rushes through the final details of the last minute things to do. Fuckin’ sidework. If you don’t already understand, you never will. I hurriedly paint my face, threw off my uniform, undid my pony, and make my way over to the bar. I’d never been here before. It looked cute. Mini-bar it was called. How perfect. One section was closed off for our use, but we overflowed every which way. The waitress kept the Martini’s in my hand coming. I meet new people. I see the old ones. Everyone was mad, mad drunk, mad rolling, mad high, mad happy. There was a theme, but I didn’t get the memo. Most everyone at least paid attention to it and at least half of them stuck to the black and white dress code.
There he was, the belle of the ball. Phillips had a black vest and a short black veil. He goes and he comes. Center of attention and he’s loving it.
I keep mostly quiet, stick with my favorite people. The music’s good, the drinks even better. Six months I hadn’t been with this crowd. I think I must have forgotten. I feel almost a stranger, but not quite. Everyone knew me, but did they? Then there’s that whole thing with Michael. Maybe be doesn’t feel weird. But I do. That confession was brutal. Vulnerability is not something I’m comfortable with. Thank all the gods for the liquid miracle in my hand. Thank god, there’s always too many of us. Eye-contact with him was practically impossible.
Who was I staying with tonight? Melissa, wasn’t it? She’d been disappearing now and again, screaming about her keys.
“She had too much vodka,” Lohan explains. Nothing further.
Night was young, I’ll figure out where I’m staying when the time comes. Boston felt fresh from the rain. I step out for a quick smoke and meet interesting new characters. Conversations move from and about tattoos, work shit and Florida. Of course. I had stopped paying attention to the words and I didn’t notice most had gone back inside. I stared at the wet asphalt, the blurred glimmer of lights, the twinkling of streetlamps. Small groups of people, walk up and down. Lost in their own little worlds, having their own fun. Every now and then, drunken obscenities are screamed. God, I love this city. A group of my friends, stumble out of the bar, and down into the club in the basement next door. Loud, laughing, obnoxious. The best people you’ll ever meet.
When the music stopped, I grab a ride with Melissa’s roommate and I meet his girlfriend. But I apparently we’d already met before. We drive down Storrow Drive, right along the river, I look at the dark, peaceful shimmering water and I get a message; Melissa went home with another friend. I guess, I’ll have her bed for myself.