I wake up and look around the room.
Through a fog of weed smoke and countless empty bottles, on the other side of the long table, I notice a face.
A pale, long face that looks like it has not seen sun for a long time. A big joint in the corner of his mouth and a thousand yard stare. Just sitting there and staring without blinking.
What is this guy doing here? How long has he been here? Why won't the fucker blink?
Tim nudges me so I almost fall off my chair. Not that it was a hard nudge, I was just not expecting it. He asks me if I am going to pass the joint. I look at him, and he gives me a "dafuq" face. - "Pass the dutchie pon the left hand-side", he recites Musical Youth, hinting me to finally pass it.
I am not sure what is going on, but I go with the flow. I take the joint out of the corner of my mouth and pass it on. I take a sip of the cheap and lukewarm white wine glass that is closest to me. I damn hope it is my glass. These people spice their drinks with horse-tranquilizers, amphetamines and who knows what. I am not going to be a part of this. I take a sip and it seems to have no foreign taste. I am glad.
I look around the room and notice there is daylight coming in through the window. As the sun hits the heavy smoke in the room, I come to realize that I must have been here for a long time.
"How long have I been awake?" - I ask myself out loud and everybody stops talking, looks at me and lets out a quick Haha. I was for real. How did this begin? ....
