V - The Hangover

Leonardo opens his eyes slowly, still half-asleep. His head hurts tremendously, the legacy of a wild night. He is not sure exactly where he is, let alone how he ended up there in the first place.  As he looks at the people stranded across the living room, everything starts to come back to him… he must have passed out at some point, the result of irresponsible drinking. Yet, he is not the only one. He sees three people sleeping on the floor.  ‘At least I was smart enough to clutch this armchair,’ thinks Leonardo. Sleeping on the couch on the other side of the living room is Jean-Pierre, his belly facing the ceiling, legs and arms spread wide, claiming the whole thing for himself.

Leonardo walks across the room, carefully avoiding stepping on the folks sleeping on the ground, even though they look so fast asleep that they probably wouldn’t notice if he elbow-dropped them. He recognizes only one of the three from last night: a Spanish boy, thick accent, brown eyes and dark hair just like himself, a nice fellow as far as he could remember. He’s just laying there, his limbs dispersed all over the place, his face inexpressive, his lips involuntarily kissing the carpet.  He doesn’t recognize the other two, but looking at them now he is sure that they were at the party and that they certainly enjoyed it, or at least they had enough alcohol to potentially enjoy it... He studies them a moment and shakes his head in amusement: a girl in a red dress is sleeping on her side, her makeup ruined, her disheveled blonde hair covering most of her face; another girl, a bit chubby, yellow dress and black tights underneath, has a drop of spittle trickling out the side of her mouth. Elegance personified, he thinks to himself.  The sight of drunk kids in the morning, the scattering for missing people as well as missing memories, the headache and the thirst, the dizziness and the tired muscles, the aftermath of a good house party… This is probably Leonardo and Jean-Pierre’s last true academic experience.    

‘Jean, Jean, wake up,’ whispers Leonardo, shaking him around slightly. It doesn’t work. Jean is sleeping like a log. ‘Jean, wake up!’ He jostles him harder this time, slightly annoyed.

‘Yeah… what?’ he mumbles, eyes now half-open.

‘Wake up man, we gotta go.’

 Where are we?’

‘We’re at the girl’s house, I guess we fell asleep here last night… or this morning, I’m not sure yet. We had an appointment with the guys, though. Breakfast at Popina’s on Sunday, remember?’

‘Yeah, right… breakfast on Sunday… I feel like shit.’

Leonardo chuckles as he says, ‘Yeah, me too. Let’s get the fuck outta here.’

‘There were so many fucking people there, dude. Those girls really know how to throw a damn good party, I would say,’ says Leonardo, still trying to ignore the pain in the back of his head. This hangover is a bitch, he thinks. He takes his mobile out of his pocket and looks at the time: twelve forty-five.  ‘We’re late man. We should’ve been there fifteen minutes ago.’  He glances back at the screen. ‘Dude we should really walk fast, I got eight missed calls.’

It takes them less than ten minutes to walk from the girl’s house to the restaurant. Popina’s is a nice little restaurant situated in Hyde Park, one of Leeds’ student neighbourhoods par excellence. They are famous mainly for their English breakfast, one of the best in Leeds. Since it’s quite cheap as well, it’s perfect for students like Leonardo and Jean-Pierre.

As they approach they recognize their friends seated at one of the tables outside.

‘Wait a sec, Leo,’ says Jean-Pierre quietly, halting abruptly.

‘What is it?’

‘Nothing really… I just don’t want to meet them straight away. I need five minutes.’

‘What are you talking about? We’re late.’

‘Don’t worry, it will be alright. How many more times are we going to have the opportunity to pull shit like this together? This is our last hangover as students. It may even be our last hangover together… I want to enjoy it five more minutes. Just let me do it, before you drag me to that restaurant.’ He sits down on the sidewalk, and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. ‘… And since we ‘re at it, let me have a fag without giving me shit for it for a change, I feel like indulging in vice, even if it’s just for five minutes. I’m not ready to be a responsible adult quite yet.’ He lights his cigarette, inhales quietly, then exhales in enjoyment, his lungs a little more rotten, but his soul is free for five seconds.  

Leonardo takes a seat by his side and tries to enjoy the feeble warmth oozing out of the dim English sun. He looks at his friend, cigarette clinging to his thick lips, his skin black as coal, his white hat giving him the gangster look he tries so hard to achieve. He reminds him of Laurence Fishburne’s character in “Rumble Fish.”  Although the movie in itself is bad, it has some of the coolest characters ever, played by some of the finest actors around when they were just starting: Laurence Fishburne, of course, but also Matt Dillon in his prime playing the rogue Rusty James; a teenaged Diane Lane looking amazing as Patty, his girlfriend; Nick Cage, cool as ever in the role of Smokey, the deceitful best friend; and above all, Mickey Rourke as the great Motorcycle Boy. Leonardo has always wished that someday he could be as cool as the Motorcycle Boy.

‘Hey man, did you ever watch a movie called Rumble Fish? It’s not that great but it has amazing characters.’

‘No, I don’t think so. What’s it called again?’

‘Rumble fish.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘You know, fish that rumble, fish that fight.’

‘It sounds stupid. What kind of title is that?’

‘I dunno… I don’t remember why it’s called that. But you remind me of someone in that movie; he’s pretty cool. With your white hat and your cigarette and your nice outfit and all... You look cool.’

He laughs, not sure what to make of Leonardo’s compliment. ‘Thanks dude.  I only wish I could say the same to you. You kind of look like shit.’  He nods his head towards a nasty red blotch on his chest.  ‘Is that wine?’

Leonardo glances down at himself. ‘Aw man!’

‘But I was just kidding, you don’t look that bad… except for the stain…’

 Leonardo lets out a chuckle. ‘It’s okay man, I don’t mind looking like shit. After all, it was a long night.’

‘That it was.’

The cigarette burns out and Jean flicks the butt onto the road.

‘That’s five minutes I guess. Let’s not make them wait any longer. Thanks dude.’ Jean-Pierre stands up and lets out a sigh.

‘No problem, man,’ says Leonardo, following him into the restaurant.

The Traveller is listening to:

Smells Like Teen Spirit (Nirvana, 1991)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTWKbfoikeg