Chapter

Chapter One

            A crisp, sobering Thursday morning air fills my lungs as I awake on a cold bench in Buckhead. “What the f**k happened last night?” I ask no one, exasperated by my own idiocy. The fact of the matter is that I simply went far too hard and got blackout drunk. The tricky part is figuring out how I was separated from my group and left outside. But right now it is far too cold for me to think clearly so I look for another, slightly enclosed place of refuge. A door step with a solid black wall circling it did the trick. I awoke an hour later, still drunk and piss-covered and decided that I had to make it back to downtown Atlanta and procure the rest of my belongings. I nervously open my wallet to assess the damage and am not surprised to find a measly three bucks. ‘Well, what can I do with this?’ I thought while searching my surroundings for some bit of good fortune. Then I saw it; the holiest and most awe-inspiring of signs. ‘MARTA’ it read, and so I walked to the bus stop and awaited my chariot of good fortune. At last, my carriage arrives and I hand the driver my three bucks. “What station are we going to?” I ask, still fairly disoriented from the brain cells I pickled last night. “Arts Center.” she retorts, certainly aware of my previous debauchery. I take a seat, ignoring the stares of the other patrons of this fine vessel and patiently await my destination. As we get closer, another problem rears its ugly head in my mind. ‘How will I get on the train? I don’t have a breeze card and I’m fresh out of cash.’ No matter, I see MARTA police at the gates, but dividing these gates is a large cement column that houses an elevator. I bide my time, waiting for some sap with the decency to pay to walk into and open the gate, and I just follow closely behind. And there you have it, I made the southbound train to Peachtree center and got off only a half mile from the very place I had intended to wake up at.

            However, as any of my close friends will tell you, it is never as simple as it should be when I am involved. Then, seemingly on cue, I realized that I had one more obstacle to scale, literally. Since it was still only 8:30 in the morning, none of my friends would be awake to check me into housing. But, there was a fence along the outside of housing with tall piles of pallets just beyond the premises. Said pallets would make an excellent stepping stool for my drunken entry into this paradise of blankets, running water and working heating and cooling. I hop the fence and make it into the house, where I immediately shower and grab some clean clothes. Once I feel refreshed and at least not hammered, I decide to head to the bank and get a new debit card.