TM 222 - Sleeping on the Couch
Mar. 17th, 2008 03:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arrow_of_apollo222 - Sleeping on the couch
There's nothing noisier than a drunk person trying to be quiet, and when almost everything in your bedroom is made of metal, it's twice as bad. That was the lesson I learned, at least temporarily, one night during my extended and embarrassingly public stumbling drunk phase.
There was a reason we carved out a piece of the starboard flight deck for Joe's, and it wasn't because we desperately wanted a place to sit and chat and play music and play some pick-up Pyramid. No, we made a bar because a bar is what we wanted. War is hell, there's lots of truth to that old saying, and it's a damn long-standing tradition to take the edge off that hell with alcohol.
And maybe there was some truth to what the Chief said about bars and marriage, too.
When the really tough things happen, some people are better than others at dealing with them. Some people grit their teeth, tighten their belt and get back to work. Others sigh and get on with their lives as best they can. And a few other still decide to stand and fight.
I didn't choose any of those things. I chose to drink. I chose to drink a frak of a lot.
And it wasn't the near-miss we had with the Cylons and the Eye of Jupiter business, it wasn't the pressure of being CAG, and it wasn't anything to do with fighting a war. I didn't know what I was doing anymore with the rest of my life, the part without the uniforms and Vipers and the enemies you could spot, target and shoot.
So it was with me blind drunk that I wandered my way back to mine and Dee's quarters. The wheel on the hatch sounded as loud as automatic gunfire in the empty, quiet passageway and in my alcohol-soaked head. The cabin inside was dark, so I knew that Dee had actually turned in for once instead of staying up late to do paperwork. I concentrated and focused on being silent and quick.
By the time I knocked the second chair over and had cursed a blue streak after bumping my head on a shelf, I looked up to see her staring at me from the bed. I suppose it's better that I was drunk, because I don't want to imagine the disgust and pity that was staring back at me.
I'm sure I mumbled some kind of apology as I kicked off my shoes and fell onto the couch.
She wasn't there when I woke up.
(427)
There's nothing noisier than a drunk person trying to be quiet, and when almost everything in your bedroom is made of metal, it's twice as bad. That was the lesson I learned, at least temporarily, one night during my extended and embarrassingly public stumbling drunk phase.
There was a reason we carved out a piece of the starboard flight deck for Joe's, and it wasn't because we desperately wanted a place to sit and chat and play music and play some pick-up Pyramid. No, we made a bar because a bar is what we wanted. War is hell, there's lots of truth to that old saying, and it's a damn long-standing tradition to take the edge off that hell with alcohol.
And maybe there was some truth to what the Chief said about bars and marriage, too.
When the really tough things happen, some people are better than others at dealing with them. Some people grit their teeth, tighten their belt and get back to work. Others sigh and get on with their lives as best they can. And a few other still decide to stand and fight.
I didn't choose any of those things. I chose to drink. I chose to drink a frak of a lot.
And it wasn't the near-miss we had with the Cylons and the Eye of Jupiter business, it wasn't the pressure of being CAG, and it wasn't anything to do with fighting a war. I didn't know what I was doing anymore with the rest of my life, the part without the uniforms and Vipers and the enemies you could spot, target and shoot.
So it was with me blind drunk that I wandered my way back to mine and Dee's quarters. The wheel on the hatch sounded as loud as automatic gunfire in the empty, quiet passageway and in my alcohol-soaked head. The cabin inside was dark, so I knew that Dee had actually turned in for once instead of staying up late to do paperwork. I concentrated and focused on being silent and quick.
By the time I knocked the second chair over and had cursed a blue streak after bumping my head on a shelf, I looked up to see her staring at me from the bed. I suppose it's better that I was drunk, because I don't want to imagine the disgust and pity that was staring back at me.
I'm sure I mumbled some kind of apology as I kicked off my shoes and fell onto the couch.
She wasn't there when I woke up.
(427)
