I woke to various degrees of pain. In different spots.
Some was to be expected. The headache, for instance, was easy to explain.
The 50th birthday party the night before had been a howling success. Much love and laughter for the Birthday Girl. And the cool drinks flowed. Hence, the throbbing in my forehead.
The aching in my back was more difficult to explain. Had I been the victim of some random, senseless assault, by a gang of hooded teens?
As the fog lifted, it slowly came back to me. The police would not be needed. Unless the officers involved were able to issue tickets for stupidity.
I had made it back safely to the home of some dear friends. Even had a cuppa before bed. No, these injuries had been suffered some hours later.
There had been a need to visit the guest bathroom during the early hours. Not surprising, given the copious amounts of fluids that had been consumed.
This must have been an arduous task in the state I was in, because I managed to fall asleep. Right there, on the toilet.
I remember checking my watch when my unexpected slumber ended. Just after 2am. I have no idea if I’d been there for 2 minutes or 2 hours.
However long it was, it was enough to make my back feel like I’d been trying out for the Chinese gymnastics team.
If I’m to be truthful here, it’s not the first time this has happened. I have form for dunny drowsiness.
The first time was more than twenty years ago. I was visiting a mate I hadn’t seen for some time. His invited me to stay at his house, which he shared with his new girlfriend.
He’d been dabbling in home-brew. Just happened to have a few large bottles in the back fridge. What better way to celebrate my big move than with a few carefully crafted ales.
I’m not being unkind when I say that his product would have been illegal in several countries. I believe he had been using the finest water, yeast, hops, barley and kerosene.
After a few, we were singing Dean Martin. A few more, and I was ready for bed. His lady-friend had been kind enough to make up the spare room for me.
During the night, there had been an urgent need to spend a penny. Their modest house only had one toilet, which I found, somehow, in my dishevelled state.
This time, I nodded off for the duration. I would spend the rest of the night, perched on their throne, with my head resting gently against the woodwork. But there was a bigger problem.
Before I lurched into slumber, I had locked the door. And of course, it couldn’t be opened from the outside.
In the early hours of the morning, the lady of the house was also forced to respond to a call of nature. Imagine her surprise, when she couldn’t open the toilet door!
She woke my friend from his coma, and explained the situation. With some force. After finding my bed empty, they concluded that I was occupying the room she needed so badly.
They knocked, and yelled, and called my name with various expletives. All to no avail. His industrial-grade brew had knocked my head off. I would not be moving anytime soon.
As a result, his girlfriend was forced to go into her own backyard to relieve herself. All the while cursing me.
I woke when the sun came up. With that feeling that something wasn’t quite right. And that same bad back.
Little was said at breakfast. Which was just as well, considering our headaches. Sadly, they broke up soon after. Peeing on the roses will do that to a relationship.
Clearly, I didn’t learn my lesson. Whatever that is. If I come to visit you anytime soon, hide the home-brew. And maybe build an extra toilet. Just in case.
Hold All Tickets 