It Could Have Been Worse

Steve and I were sitting in a bar I can’t remember the name of anymore. The bar had happy hour from ten till two. You could get pretty fucked up for twenty bucks in that bar in 1985 and we were. After closing the place we stood under the freeway and smoked a joint. While we were finishing, Steve said, I don’t feel so good. What’s wrong, I asked? I don’t know, Steve said and fell face down in the dirt. Are you OK, I asked. No, Steve said. Do you want some water, I asked. No, Steve said. What a pussy, I thought, laid in the grass and fell asleep. When the sun came up Steve woke me up and gave me a ride to the barracks on the back of his bike. Looking back, maybe it’s a good thing he fell down and we didn’t try and make it home that night.