My Night As A Wino.

I met with one of my sketch classmates to write at the ever delightful Yaffa Cafe. When I arrived a wee bit late, after an L train fiasco, she was already having a second glass of wine. Since this was our first meeting outside of class I thought it only courteous to join her. I was going to have just the one, and since I ordered a delicious avocado melt (which by the way used to be served on a croissant, but no longer is, dammit) I thought I'd be fine. Since I have not had a drink in a while, this was not the case, and pretty soon I was buzzed. This made a second glass of wine seem like a harmless lark.

Not to fret; we left the restaurant soon after, and I strolled to the train. Halfway there I made a phone call that, for some strange reason made me really upset. And suddenly I wanted another glass of wine pronto. It was 10 at night so I was screwed I figured, as the wine shops in Cobble Hill were long closed, and I had no idea where there even was one in Chelsea. I was getting despondent and started to cry a bit, and really wished I had some wine at home. While I was chastising myself for not having my shit together enough to buy a case and have it on hand like an adult, my eyes fell upon a wine shop across the street. I was excited- but wary, as I was sure it would be closed when I got close enough to see it. However, there was a still-lit neon "open" sign in the window...dared I dream? I took out $20 which was earmarked for something frivolous, like rent, and marched to the store where I proceeded to buy the super-size Yellow Tail bottle. The shop was 5 minutes from closing, and the cashier had a look on his face I did not care for at all. It said something along the lines of, "You're a trainwreck, lady". I snatched up my mega-jug and exited in a huff.

After a hoary, way too long train ride home rife with delays, I peeled off my coat, lit up a Marlboro Light, and threw back 2 highball glasses of wine (still do not own proper wine glasses). There was some crying and mewling on my part but it was somehow less traumatic with the aid of the booze.

I went to bed, woke up with slight hangover and a cold, and my period started. I feel badly about breaking my dry-out promise, but not bad enough not to have a few sips of wine after the play I'm going to tonight. Who needs a cruddy old 20 days sober token anyway?