I've been itching to dance. That's a first in me. I usually dread dancing, but after some years of practicing yoga, I have discovered my hips are actually mobile, and not a block of cement that moves as a single unit. I was (am?) one of those dancers that pretend to move their hips through flexing their knees, a sad sight.
Yesterday I went to Fuego Fuego, a raeggaeton festival, but I just hung out at the entrance. I wanted to see if it was possible to eavesdrop from outside the Olympic Park. The main bands were not out yet, but I could definitely hear nothing. I was advised on Reddit that I should hear something, shrug.
I could not find a water fountain and wanted to quench my thirst before lunch. I went into a convenience store and thought "I'll have a beer". There was a deal buying three so of course I indulged and had finished two of them by the end of my lunch of instant macaronni and cheese, plus steak.
Already buzzed up, I biked down Rachel Ave to Parc la Fontaine. I was searching for a South American cumbia gathering, the park is enormous and no indication of the location was given, so I biked around aimlessly, until I tuned my ears and I heard drums in the distance "of course, I'm searching with my eyes when I should be using my ears", I thought. I saw the gathering: a circle of musicians and people dancing. It sounded more like the tam tams than cumbia, but it was OK, I just wanted to dance.
But I also decided I was too sober to do it. So I biked over to St. Denis to get a cheap bottle of vinho verde and some weed from the SQDC. By the time I arrived to the gathering, I had already downed two thirds of the bottle and smoked half a joint.
I saw a group of men speaking in Spanish, about 7 of them. I introduced myself, said I heard they spoke Spanish, and if they didn't mind making space for an orphaned loner who came alone. They welcomed me into their circle and we said cheers.
Most of them were construction workers, they came from different backgrounds which coallesced professionally in construction. They were great guys. Shared cigarettes and beer, then it was muy turn to buy a 12 pack. After much drinking I joined the circle to dance.
I danced and moved about the circle. At a certain moment, I approached a woman dancing, but did so from behind. I didn't touch her, but she looked back and removed herself from that spot. I thought not much about it until she came and told me "that thing you did was not ok, you must have permission to dance, usually with eye contact". In my drunkardness I wanted to protest and say not to be so stuck up about it, but what came out of my mouth was "sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, I apologize" and that was the end of it. As I write this, I notice the reaction I would have like to have is "Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, perhaps we can dance together to make peace?" "No thanks" she would have replied, but at least we would have both left with a smile on the face.
The night ended in a blur, I don't remember much about how I said goodbye to my new friends or how I got into the cab, but I do remember that once we arrived the credit card was not accepted in the driver's terminal, he took me to an ATM but the door was locked. I promised him I would transfer him the money when I came back home. I wanted to walk back home but he insisted on driving me. He still has not accepted the transfer, I should call him.
The next day (today) was horrible. I woke up to relieve my dry mouth at 6am. I had a terrible headache. I went into the medication cabinet and had one prescription percocet from my grandmother, but it would be of little use because I vomited five minutes later. And vomited again, and again. I was drinking water but unable to hold it down. All that came out was water with yellow bile, very yellow. My last meal had been lunch on the previous day so my stomach was empty. I vomited from 6am to noon, perhaps 14 or 15 times.
The vomiting was accompanied by flashbacks of embarrassment from the girl whom I had crept up from behind, and I had this deep in my bones feeling that this was a lesson, not that I had done wrong, nobody was even touched in this situation, but that these forms: the booze, the smoking, the confusion, the inflamed sensations, the boisterousness of it all is not in accordance with my soul. "I will never drink again" I lamented on the bowl of the toilet, but I know this is not a promise but an understanding that being drunk is not my interest (a glass or two of wine or beer are in my best interest).
Finally my wellbeing somewhat restored and I went to the park to read a chapter of "Iron John" by Robert Bly. Hangover aches all over, I decided to smoke some more to numb myself. The book, in this state, made deep impressions on me. I just came back from the park and wrote this to make space and comment some parts of the book tomorrow. I'm still hungover. Never again.