On a street in west Philadelphia, a light breeze drags a plastic bag past a group of people hanging out in front of a house, talking casually. A strip of smoke peals off from the end of a cigarette, and hangs loosely in the air. Plastic beer cups gather sweat which twinkles from the light of orange street lamps. Its been a quiet night.
Suddenly, the door bangs open, and a white kid leaps down 6 or 7 steps, slamming into the ground with his right foot, falling into a clumsy roll, and ending up on his back where he begins laughing hysterically.
Hi, thats me. How's your Friday night going?
Lately I've had more and more conversations that begin with the other person telling me, "Hey, I saw you at _____ the other night. You were DRUNK!"
And then I think, "I don't remember being drunk."
And then... "I wonder how I know this person."
I want to make something clear. I'm not one of those people who blacks-out and then can't piece together how he ended up tied to a mattress, wrapped in the arms of a Canadian hermaphrodite, on top of a rusted-out van bound for Delaware. No, not me. My memory sucks, but I can account for each and every scratch and bruise the next day. I've never even had a hangover. It's called responsible drinking bitches.
So I'm thinking, these people, they don't know what they're talking about. How could I be drunk, when I remember everything that happened, I didn't slur my words, and I used good judgment the whole night?
But now my record is starting to show blemishes.
Bolting out of the house when a girl runs at you with a beer can is probably not a sign of good judgment. She was kidding around, but still, I couldn't help it. I'm subconsciously influenced by creepy Asian cinema, where harmless looking girls end up killing everybody. Instinct kicked in, and my adrenalin wisked me into the air for maximum hilarity.
Oh, and I remember thinking it would be funny if I had broken my leg. Ha. Ha.
Of course, the only person who would have been able to fully appreciate the humor behind the whole thing was still inside the house, apparently she hadn't even chased me to the front door. There weren't even any girls in my audience. What a waste.
The guys outside stood in shock for about 7 seconds, while I pulled myself to my feet and brushed the crap off my shorts.
"So, what did you think of that jump?"
"You didn't jump, it looked like you got halfway through the air and forgot you didn't have magic powers," one of them answered, shaking his head sadly.
Yeah, not having magic powers sucks.