The Hangover

Sometimes you come across people who are blessed with good looks. Others you meet those who are not only good looking, but sickeningly sweet and kind to others. People like that should be made an example of. My friend Carlos is one of them.

Carlos doesn't live in Miami anymore, so when he called asking if I wanted to go out for a little DDD action this past Friday night, I couldn't reply with anything other than an emphatic Yes!

It had been a particularly long day at work. A political campaign in the middle of combusting, a strike, phone calls to Senators, and an onslaught of other bullshit for only ten peanuts an hour had my brain ready for the vodka monster to attack. When my co-worker Nate suggested we go to the billiards place around the corner for "a few cervezas," the choice was simple.

I knew I had to be ready by 10 p.m. and that I needed a nap at some point before then but weekends were made for fun with a side of questionable behavior and I'll be damned if anyone convinces me otherwise. We arrived at Pepito's Billiard at six and by eight it was evident there'd be no nappage taking place that evening. Nate had already left and I was on my third vodkaseltzer with a complete stranger when a few other friends arrived. The effects of some incredibly strong drinks made by a bartender that was at least 76-years-old and an empty stomach were beginning to take its course. Surprisingly, I decided to be responsible and cut my billiard's experience short, heading home after drink #3. I walked and fed my dogs and somehow made myself presentable. Carlos was at my door exactly at ten (punctual people are so... punctual).

I sat on top of my bar counter and we started commiserating over some Stoli vodkas. By the time we'd babbled about everything from failed relationships to Facebook drama to being broke and an upcoming trip to Savannah, I was three vodkaseltzers in.

And off we were.

I'd be lying if I said things weren't already hazy once we arrived at Trio. We talked and talked and talked and laughed 'til tears streamed down my face and my cat eye make-up looked more like a sad clown mask. We didn't care if people were looking at us funny or if the food we ordered ever came. I can't exactly say I recall what my surroundings looked like, but I do remember the smell of the water. And the wind in my hair. And mayyyyyybe three more vodkaseltzers and a shot of Patron. Couldn't say for sure...

And then:

I wake completely naked, my head pounding a thousand storms on a rocky shore. I close my eyes willing it all to go away with no luck. My throat feels like there's a second tongue shoved in there. Something is terribly wrong and I have no clue what it is. I go to the mirror and open wide.

Holy fuck, what happened last night?

I peel the covers off slowly and look around as my dogs placidly dream still. There doesn't seem to be anyone home as I tip toe into the living area. There I find my clothes in a trail leading to my room. Leopard heels. Black dress. Red underwear. Leather hand cuff. There's a pile of candy wrappers on top of the bar and what seems like an unfinished bottle of soda. Disgust takes over me and I feel like throwing up. I pick up the phone instead and take in some water with aspirin as I text Carlos.

Me: Good God almighty, what the hell happened last night?

It's eleven a.m. and unlikely he'll reply right away so I lie back down after picking up the mess that's my apartment and immediately fall asleep. When my brain turns on again there's a blinking light emerging from my phone and the following text:

Carlos: Good morning, sunshine. lol

Me: Oh my God, you're alive! What the hell happened last night?

Carlos: How did I know you were going to ask me that? No pleasantries, I see. Hi, Carlos. Good morning, Carlos. How are you doing today, Carlitos? Oh, I'm doing fine, Annah. Thank you for asking.

Me: Spill it!

Carlos: You obviously had one too many. I tried to get you to eat something but the portions in that restaurant were meant for toddlers instead of growing adults.

Me: Okay...?

Carlos: Then you got up and said you had to go to the bathroom. When you returned to the table there was a guy with you. You introduced him as Marcus and said you were going home with him. And that's what you did, babycakes. There was no stopping you.

I didn't even know what to say. I called him to apologize profusely. I explained I'm usually great about holding in my liquor. I expressed that I *never* take strangers home and my only one night stand had been in my early twenties. He said he understood but didn't sound too convinced. I hung up, questioning my life choices and on the verge of tears when the phone rings.

Me: Hello?

Stranger: Hey... How are you feeling?

Me: Who is this?

Stranger: It's Marcus. (laughs)

Me: Oh. Um. Hello, I guess.

Marcus: Still a little intoxicated, I see.

Me: Uh... Not really. More like, trying to piece everything together.

Marcus: Well it's a good thing you have all day for that. Sorry I didn't say goodbye this morning. But I had to go to work.

Me: (Not a clue what the hell he's talking about but play along for the sake of his ego). Yeah, sure. No problem.

Marcus: Call you when I get out?

Me: Uh-huh. Ciao.

Marcus: (Makes a kissing sound). Bye.

My world was crumbling around me. How was it possible the first time in months I was partaking in the horizontal mambo it would be with some stranger I picked up at a bar like some cracked out prostitute? I sat down on my couch -still naked- and began to cry. Five minutes later Carlos called to see if I wanted to join him and some friends for lunch. I told him I didn't want to leave my house ever again and sobbed into the phone.

He took this as the perfect moment to tell me it had all been a big prank, and "Marcus" had just been something he made up to fuck with me for passing out on top of the dinner table an hour after we got to Trio. He then asked his friend to call me and pretend to be Marcus to see if I'd bite. He was surprised I believed the whole thing and was enjoying torturing me too much to tell me right away.

If there was an app for stabbing people through the phone it would've come in handy at that point. In the meantime I'll wait patiently for Carlos to return to Miami so I can exact my revenge.

You've been warned.