Ny Quil Will Help You Get Your ZZZZZZssss

September 7, 2009

My friend Gilberto asked me to write a blog. A true story from my past, un-fabricated and completely true. Here it goes


Saturday night and I was preparing my apartment for the arrival of my guests. It wasnt uncommon for my ex girlfriend and I to host a party every weekend at our humble comode in the heart of the city of San Juan. I managed to arrange all the cups, ice and glass bottles of various types of alcohol on the counter, our arsenal for a good time.

My cell phone rang and I knew immediately that it was my friend Gilberto calling to tell me he was on his way with my friend Arturo. They were always the first to show up to our apartment, ready to get rip roaring drunk with no regrets and the last to leave.

"Saracita, estoy cerca de tu casa," he said and hung up. I wondered why he always called me when he was within a block of my house. I could hear the squeaking of his wheel axles from a mile away, his Ford Explorer was in desperate need for repair and everyone knew it by the loud creaking of the wheels. It was as if the car was screaming "For the love of God, fix me!!" Apparently Gilberto did not speak the same language as the SUV.

The noise ceased once he parked across the street in front of the nun convent, appropriate since Gilberto was catholic and possessed the catholic guilt that managed to do nothing for him but disrupt his fun for a few minutes every weekend. I always was amused whenever he would get super drunk, abruptly stop everything he was doing and look across the street and outline a cross on his chest while mumbling something in Spanish about Santa Maria or Jesus Cristo. It was a short interlude between drinking unhealthy amounts. Tonight would probably be no different.

"Sarah!!!" Gilberto yelled as he opened his door and stepped out of the car.

"Gilbert!!" I yelled back and fumbled with my keys. It took at least a few minutes to unlock the door, the gate in front of the door and then the gate to the apartment building. Needless to say, when I was inside my apartment, with its barred up windows, not only did I feel safe but I felt like I was in prison, appropriately so since I was living in one of the most dangerous barrios in San Juan.

"Sarah, como estas tu?" Gilberto greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, a common greeting among Hispanic people.

"Estoy bien amigo mio," I replied and gave Arturo a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Hola Sarah," Arturo adjusted his black Mettalica baseball cap on his head. "I sink its time to drink ya?"

It was time to party like a rock star, which my friends strived to be, minus playing instruments and singing. They probably were the only men in their early twenties in the island that didn't listen to regaeton, wear gay looking chains, wax their eyebrows and shave their entire bodies. In fact, they despised the young men whom embarrassed this new trend. Their rebellion screamed through their clothes, rock band t-shirts and chains hanging from their baggy jeans.

"Yes, let's get started, " I lead them into my apartment and asked them what they wanted. We all decided to have the same thing, rum and coke with a lime wedge, aka cuba libre.

"Sank you," Arturo politely said after I handed him his drink. It was normal for Arturo to not be able to really pronounce the 'th' sound in English. I loved his accent, his struggle to speak English flattered me. I knew him and Gilberto really tried hard to communicate with me, and I tried to return the favor by speaking in Spanish as often as I could, with much difficulty. It was a union of two different cultures linked under the love to chill out together. Which, by chance the word 'chill' was also used in Puerto Rican Spanish to mean the same thing.

For the most part, my ex girlfriend, Frankie stayed within the four walls of our room either writing or reading. Every once in a while she would poke her head out and socialize for a brief moment. Frankie didn't drink hardly ever, having had a bad experience years ago, a worst case scenario moment I wont go into for her sake of privacy.

A few drinks, and four or five games of My Little Pony Memory Game later a few other friends showed up to join in our fun.

Writers interlude: Yes, we did habitually play My Little Pony Memory Game. It must have started months ago after sharing a few gallons of lemoncea, a potent gasoline, I mean alcoholic drink. We enjoyed the challenge of trying to find the matches of the different ponies, their friends and favorite items on pink cardboard cards. Which at this point, have had so many drinks spilled on them they were a little sticky, making it almost undesirable to play for any normal person, BUT NOT US!! Saturday night wouldn't be the same without the pink, purple and white ponies with big smiles and wands. 'What gay little creatures with their rainbow colors,' I always thought whenever I played.

"Cabron, mira," Jimmy said and pointed to one of the tiles for Arturo. "What are you looking for?"

"The Corazon Grande," Arturo said and tried to remember which tile was the other large red heart.

"Try this one," another friend Carlos said and grabbed a tile and flipped it over to reveal a white pony with pink hair.

"Aghhh!! Eso is Pinky Pie!" Arturo frustrated took another giant gulp of his drink. It amazed me that my big brute man friend, who very closely resembled a Hispanic version of Al on Home Improvement had played the game so many times that he knew the names of the ponies. I laughed a little every time they refereed to the magical creatures by their proper names.

"Let's stop playing this game," I suggested seeing the frustration on my friend's bearded face. We quickly cleaned up the game and proceeded to take shots of white tequila, my favorite liquor to drink straight out of the bottle. Did it taste differently then normal yellow tequila? No, but I disliked yellow with a passion and the white tequila had a prettier bottle.

The night was blissfully fun, one joke after another, laughter filling the apartment, and the occasional drinking game. I needed this party, a sort of stress relief helping me forget that my girlfriend, Frankie, had broken up with me merely weeks ago leaving me a massive bleeding heart. Alcohol made the aching stop, and filled my mind with peace. Drunken blissful peace and love (of my friends anyway, although she said she loved me I refused to believe it was merely a platonic love and the real love we shared had gone cold and died.)

The guys were outside drinking so they could smoke their cigarettes, a habit I had given up years ago at the request of my.... I tried not to think about her and took another shot of white tequila straight from the bottle. Apparently, all my friends thought I was so cool being able to drink the same if not more than them at these friendly gatherings. Another thing I had cut down on since becoming her girlfriend, I guessed there was no point now.

The night was unfolding just as expected until 'he' showed up...Chris, the African American Puerto Rican, who used to be the army, is a part of the stone mason secret society, had two kids, was in the process of divorcing his wife, lived with his mom in Bayamon, loved chicken more than anyone else on the planet, wasn't sure who his father was, had a fantasy of sleeping with someone in a broom closet (I later found out that someone was me, the thought made me cringe every time), never carries cash, has been working on getting a degree for 5 years but kept changing his major, believes that showers are an essential part of the day, doesn't like crowded places such as malls or rock concerts, thinks volleyball is a girls sport, and someday wants to move back to the states..... and most importantly forced a kiss on me only a month prior, needless to say I hadn't been to friendly with him since that day.

Besides the kissing part, how did I know this? Unfortunately for me and everyone around, the guy does not stop talking. Thus the disappointment on my face when I saw him pull up to my apartment, uninvited.

"No fucking way," I whispered to myself and took another swig straight from the clear Jose Cuervo bottle as he parked his car in my neighbors parking spot. This scared me because my neighbor, as a punishment to the spot taker, would park behind the perpetrator's car so closely that their was no possible way of maneuvering their way out, thus trapping them between his car and the concrete wall of my apartment. Not only did he do this but he would NOT answer his door afterward, forcing our guest to spend the night. I hoped that tonight would not end like that, especially not with Chris.

I regretted the day that I met him in class at the University I attended. Although, I didn't take the blame on this one, Frankie finally met her match of someone who could talk more then she could, a feat not easily matched. They spent hours talking about..... Honestly I couldn't tell you, I would just tune them out most the time. And thus a friendship was born, one of which I wish I had aborted.

"Q te pasa? What is wrong hunny?" Gilberto asked me and handed me a cuba libre he had just made.

"Chris is here," I handed him the glass back, "better put more rum in that drink."

"Esta bien," He grabbed my cup and proceeded to pour more Bicardi in it, "is this the guy that kissed you?"

"Yes, he has no respect," I wondered how I was going to throw him out without making a scene.

As Chris walked up to the open gate, I visualized myself quickly running over to it and locking it before he could get in, then laughing. The kind of laugh you only hear the villains in Disney movies do. I wondered how my other friends would react to this. It would definitely be awkward, no doubt about that. My good senses told me to tolerate this intruder for the sake of being a good host.

"Hey girl!" Chris said leaning over to give me a kiss on the cheek, I stepped back out of his reach and extended my hand out. A handshake, the way the men in Puerto Rico greet each other, unless they are fruitier than Richard Simmons. I extended my hand because I was not going to allow him the chance to 'kiss assault' me again. He seemed a little taken back by the gesture but shook my hand anyway.

"Hi...." I said awkwardly and walked inside.

The awkward silence lingered for several minutes as the men smoked outside. Only a few of them knew the reason for my rudeness, the others were completely shocked. And of course, as expected, Chris broke the ice, an avalanche of words and sentences started and I knew that the end of his pointless chatter was nowhere in sight.

Hours passed like days for me, as I sat at the table and took shot after shot. The one way conversation outside was boring everyone at my party. I hoped that the alcohol would make me dissapear, I had never passed out from it but there was always a first for something, and I prayed that tonight would be my first. Unfortunately, this was not the case for me, not this time. I am not so lucky.

"Sarah!" Gilberto walked inside and started making drinks out of grape juice, "Do you want a drink?"

"No, I am good," I said to him and lifted the bottle of my sanity, "I am covered."

I thought it was curious that out of all the juice in the fridge he had chosen to mix rum with grape juice. I didn't pay much attention to him though as he prepared the liquid intoxication, and looked down at the Memory Game box, outlining the shape of the ponies with my finger.

"So this is why I think that this society is going to be a cashless society someday..." Chris relentlessly went on and on to the group, who were too nice to interrupt, unaware of the situation. Gilberto handed him a dark purple drink, "Thanks man...So as I was saying, in 10-20 years people wont use paper money, we will only have debit card and credit cards........"

I stepped outside, making an appearance to my friends. I didn't want them to think I was a complete bitch, although I could tell by the look of Miguel, Carlos, Jimmy and Arturo, their eyes glazed over, blank expressions, bored to death, that they understood my resentment. They were all zoned out I could tell, I knew that look. Every once in awhile they would slip a complementary laugh, smile, or an "uhuh" "yeah" or "okay" just to make it seem like they were actively listening.

As time passed by Chris would not stop, his voice faded, blurred and became an ongoing buzz to me. I leaned on the aluminum door of my apartment and looked around at my friends' dazed bored faces. I wondered what Arturo was thinking tapping his foot on the concrete ground, I imagined it would have been a song, perhaps Iron Maden, Carlos was probably thinking about his favorite comic book, Miguel is probably wondering how to better cultivate his marijuana plants, and Jimmy is probably so hungry he can't stop thinking about walking over to the empanidilla stand only a few blocks away. I finally looked at Gilberto's smiling face... ??? This threw me off, he was the only person in the entire group that has smiled in nearly 3 hours. What was he thinking about making him smile? He looked like he was holding back laughter, I knew something was up and I wanted in on it.

"So, in my opinion the governor of Puerto Rico is going to have to answer to the federal government," Chris stopped to yawn, "Oye, Tengo sueno! I cant believe how tired I am all of the sudden."

"So as I was saying...The United States Government, also founded by stone masons such as myself, will not allow for the corrupt ways of these Governors..." Chris yawned again and shook his head vigorously trying to wake up, "What was I talking about again?"

Nobody answered....and for the first time we could hear the sound of the coquis singing, not unlike crickets in the mainland. None of us really knew what he had been talking about for the past three hours but was relieved he seemed to be stalling, our first sign of the end of his company.

"Oh well, I will have to tell you all about it later," Chris yawned again and took his keys out of his pocket, "I am so tired."

"You have to leave so soon?" I said almost sarcastically knowing his delusions about how people view him would mask such rudeness on my part (in his mind people loved hearing him speak, such a modern genius).

"Yes, sexy," another delusional belief he held that I had some kind of secret attraction to him. A man who thinks he can have whatever girl he wants gay or straight. "I am sorry I cant stay longer."

"Trust me, it is alright," I said and walked him to the gate leading to the parking spots, "you go home and get some sleep. PLEASE."

Only my friends picked up on the things being communicated between the lines of audible speech.

As soon as the engine started and the headlights dissapeared in the darkness of the neighborhood, the party restarted. Laughter and talk began again, the party had been raised from the dead. We were all relieved to have a few hours to enjoy the rest of the night.

"You know what is funny is that I was thinking the entire time...'leave now' " I said with a smile, "and then he left, granted it took a few hours, but he left!! There must be a power out there controlled by thought, this is proof isn't it?"

"I thought the same thing," Arturo said and took a puff of his camel cigarette, "I sought that I want him to go and he...... go."

"So what you are saying Sarah is that you think our thoughts were interjecting something into the universe making what we thought actually happen?" Carlos asked inquisitively while adjusting his glasses. He was probably the smartest of my friends and loved this deep metaphysical stuff.

"It must have been, we all thought the same thing and he left." I said impressed by my connection, "Didn't you wish him to leave also?"

"Ummm yes, I did," Carlos lit his cigarette, "wow, you might be right. What about you Miguel and Jimmy?"

"It was so sudden!!" Jimmy said enthusiastically, "Cabron just left suddenly! I was thinking 'Hijo de puta! I want him to stop talking' and he just suddenly started yawning."

"I sent brain waves to control him," Miguel said in this strange robot like voice. He was a little odd. I could never tell if he was mocking us or was being genuine. Everyone laughed hardest when Miguel spoke, the comedian of the group, except I never understood the humor. It always felt like an inside joke to me.

"What do you think Gilberto?" I asked and set my drink down on the step of my porch. I was done drinking for the night finally.

Gilberto smiled mischievously and stepped inside my apartment. Everyone looked at each other curiously.

"Where did he go?" Carlos asked, being the inquisitive one of the group.

Before anyone could respond Gilberto came outside with an empty bottle of Nyquil PM. It didn't really register with anyone until Miguel started laughing hysterically like a hyena. Everyone else's laughter soon followed.

"Cabron! How much of that did you put in his drink?" Jimmy asked reaching over to give Gilberto a high five.

"It was half way full," I said and we all started laughing.

"Is that why you had to mix it with grape juice?" Miguel asked. "Because I must say, that was the worst drink I have ever had."

"The grape juice was the only juice that would mask the taste of the Nyquile. I didnt want him to catch on. I told him grape juice was all we had left, so sorry everyone. I had to!" Gilberto laughed and threw the empty plastic Nyquil bottle in the garbage can.

What I learned from this..... Never underestimate the strength and power of Nyquil PM. It works people. Especially half a bottle.