Tuesday, 13 November 2012

The Bad Kind of Champagne Shower

It’s 5.13am. I’m sitting on my bed typing this as I’m in a state of shock. Shocked from watching a good friend whom I partied a lot with get drunk and turned violent. I never knew what a violent drunk can be capable of. I mean, I have read about them in the newspaper articles, heard about them on the radio, watched clips about them on telly but never have I encountered one before. One would never guess he’s the sort. He had two martinis, one margarita, two vodka cranberry, one vodka orange and half a glass of champagne. That combination did him in. Whenever champagne is served at the end of a party, it’s bad news. Even for me. But this is not about me. I want it on the record though that I’m a sleepy drunk. When I’m drunk, I just want to lie on my mattress and lay my head on my very lovely Serta pillow.

So back to my violent drunk friend, or should I call him my drunken violent friend – he shall be referred to he from this point on. We got out of Filter, naively thinking we’ll continue the night at Butter. I had taken the car out tonight and it was a good thing I drove – I want to reassure you, Stalker dear, that because I drove, I had all but two glasses of alcoholic drinks and then plenty of water to down it with. Anyway, while everyone was sitting happily in the car discussing our next party venue, I pulled up at a red light. In less than five seconds, he flung the door open, jumped out of the car and dashed across the road. The impact of the door took paint off the door of the taxi in the next lane. The other two guy friends jumped into action and followed him out of the car – evidently they had experienced this on previous occasion and knew exactly what was going to happen.

While they chased him across the junction, the taxi driver requested calmly for compensation to the damage to his car. He didn’t make a fuss, he knew it wasn’t my fault and he could see that my friend was drunk. He just wanted $50 to fix the paint job. What choice do I have? He had actually asked nicely, to boot, and $50 was a reasonable amount, I guess. I pulled a $50 note from my wallet, muttering under my breath how the night had turned not quite to my expectations, put the money in his hand and then drove off. The other female friend beside me was also in a state of shock and given she is, at most, 24 years of age, I didn’t expect her to have an opinion about this.

Next, I did what anyone would have done in this situation. There was a gas station opposite the traffic junction and seeing the “Fill Tank” warning on display, I drove to the gas station and topped the tank up. Yes, I was quite the calm picture. Next, I bought a bottle of water, called one of the sober guys and realized they were across the street under the shades of the tree. I drove out of the gas station, made a U-turn and that was when I realized they were actually ON the left traffic lane instead of the pedestrian lane. Oh, and may I add that the two guys were literally sitting on the drunk friend to hold him down. No, I do not exaggerate or kid. They were sitting on him when he laid face down on the road. I pulled the car up two metres away from them, switched on the hazard light, got the female passenger to pass the bottle to them and waited. After ten seconds, it again became apparent that these two were having a hard time holding him down and it’ll not be possible to get him home in his hair-grabbing, punch-throwing state. For the next two hours, he struggled from time to time under their weight, willing them to release their grip on him. I can see perspiration forming on their foreheads – these guys were getting a good workout out of this. It baffled me how a drunk person would have so much strength. I was having a good laugh when he started singing and cursing, at the same time. It baffled me more how he couldn’t string a sentence together but he could curse perfectly. Oh, and the water I bought? I took the pleasure of pouring it over his face but it turned out to be a waste of good water.

How did the night end, you wondered? The police intervened, of course. Not in the way you thought they did though. A police car on patrol drove past us, turned around and pulled alongside. When the two officers were trying to determine what was going on, I asked, “Can I make a joke? If we knocked him down, we won’t be here already”. I knew that was the question in their mind and boy, did that weak attempt at a joke diffuse the situation! To cut the long story short, the police officers helped us dragged the violent drunk friend into the car and that’s how you can count on the friendly neighbourhood law enforcement officers to put an end to a eventful night out.

PS: I’ll recover from my state of shock eventually. I don't know how he's going to recover form the mother of hangovers when he wakes though. More importantly, I’d imagine all of us will have a good teasing and laughing session about this in time to come. *rubs hands together gleefully*

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