f r e s h s t a r t

Saturday, November 20, 2004

 

Saturday morning at my house
So the roommate has a friend, lets call him Pete, well because that's his name, who lives in Plainfield and therefore doesn't get out much. Every once in a while he comes into the city, goes out with Richie, and crashes in our living room for the night. Last night they went to a Megadeth concert (I'm not kidding), which Pete was extremely excited about. They blasted Megadeth to get pumped up for the show, put bottles of MGD in their pockets for the walk to the train, and Pete was on the phone trying to line up people to hang out with all night after the show. I had a relatively chill, Megadeth-free night last night, and when I got home around 1, there no one else was back yet.
Around 7:30 this morning I was awakened by the sound of my door opening and Pete stumbling around my room, evidently looking for the bathroom. We were surprised to see each other, and I was more than a little concerned when he starting leaning on my desk and moving his head in the direction of my trash can. Gently saying "No no no no no no, don't puke in here," I opened the bedroom door and pointed toward the hallway. He walked into my closet saying "I just need to sit down, I just need to sit down." I grabbed his arm, dragged him out of the room, showed him where the bathroom was, and went back to bed. About an hour later he came out of the bathroom and opened my door again. This time I just shouted "No, wrong room." and he left.

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