[from a few nights ago]

Last night:
Got dressed, tucked a bottle of vodka and a bottle of wine in my purse. Waved goodbye, went and waited for my train. Ran into Upstairs American Neighbor, missing my tram, got on the U4, the U6, the 46 tram, walked a few blocks.

Come on, we're going to be late. The show started an hour ago.
Ok, let's just take a shot. Where's J?
I don't know.
Are we waiting for him?
Yes.
So what's the hurry?

Steve calls me in, strumming "You and I." It's too high. I teach a three part round in Hebrew. I sing the Passover Song. We sing "Green Eyes," "Blower's Daughter" (Z: "MY FAVORITE SONG!! DID YOU KNOW THAT?") and "I'm Yours" (Z: "MY SECOND FAVORITE SONG! I HAVE THIS ON MY IPOD!"). We take a shot of vodka. I chase with wine. Z drinks some schnapps. J comes in, and we all sing to him.

Come on come on come on! We're going to be late!
We're already late. It started two hours ago.
Ok, just let me get dressed.
Wear you sexy jeans.
They're dirty. They smell like smoke and sweat.
I don't think so, do you?
No. Wear them.
But they smell!

I grab his ass and tell him it's the jeans. We both take another shot, leave our jackets at home, and start walking.

Roman Cafe. I pronounce cafe with one syllable.
Yea, but this isn't it.
How many Roman cafes can there be?
It's on Neufecherlandersl-something-strasse.
Oh. I'll race you.
Erin, I don't want to race.

But I'm already sprinting downhill. T takes my offer, and beats me, but just barely.

We go to the club. Turns out there are two Roman Cafes within a few blocks. We decide to walk to a night bus, get to the boat. I leave my stuff at Z's. I have my keys.

I have to pee.
Ok, we'll be right there.
That's a lie.
Ok, there's a McDonalds.

Z goes into the bathroom. J asks me if he can borrow money to get food. I buy a soda. I come back and Z's crying. Head on the table. Grace is asking her if she wants some food, that some greasy food will be good to sopp up the alcohol. They run to the bathroom and sit down. The lights go out, they're closing.

We walk her outside, carrying a cup of water.

Get a cab.
We will. You be safe too.
Ok.

Hey, can I stay at your house? Is that ok?

It's late, almost 1. I can't find a bus home, and don't want to wait.

Of course you can.
Erin, stay with me. You can sleep on our floor, we have mattresses. She's crying.
Dude, of course I will.
28 Liebhartsgasse, bitte.
Liebhartsgasse?
Ja.
J me Z. T in the front seat. It's only a few blocks away. I open Z's window, and take her water. I look at Z. Her hand is over her mouth.

Move, open your window.
Why?
Dump out the water, I need the cup.
What?

I lean over him, roll down the window, toss out the water, give Z the cup just in time. She alternates in the three minutes home between the cup and the window. We tip the driver.

Z, it's ok. You're a champ. When I did this, I was alone and I threw up in the cab.
Laughs.
Ok, hold on to us.

We get her upstairs. Ooook.... Ssshshhh.... Let's get you some water. Sweatpants, I lay out some clothing. She drags off her extra mattress and J's. It's better when there's two. Stay with me? Yea, no, I'm here. She leaves.

We could make out right now.
Yea. But that might be awkward.
Let's just make love instead.
Oh my.

We spend the next two hours rubbing backs. Remembering substitutes for ipeacac. Coffee and a tablespoon or so of salt. Other people come in, other legs form teepees around hers. Call the doctor, who tells me that vomiting is a normal reaction to alcohol, and do I know that it is two in the morning? I know. Call the student advisor, who tells us to call the hospital. The three of us get into the ambulance.

J is lying in my lap. Every fifteen minutes he gets up abruptly and asks if this is ok. Each time I rub his shoulders and tell him its fine, I don't care, I don't plan on sleeping, that the obese mentally challenged woman's vagina peeking from under her robe has scarred me so that sleep will only become a distant memory. Z is across the room recieving fluids. We're trying to get her to sleep through it, so J can sleep and I can take from that the slightest bit of intimacy. I miss shared slumber (because I can't say that I miss sleeping with people on this blog), and being one of the few people I can touch, this is comforting.

They send us home. It is morning. We walk around the hospital. I need to brush my teeth. Catch a tram, crash on the mattresses I laid on the floor hours earlier. Ancient history.