FLUSHED IN THE FACE

Drinking and me have never quite worked out. Aside from coffee and sugar, it is the only drug that I do with any kind of regularity and it is only done to keep me from being a dull human being.

I was trying to NOT be a dull human being on my second night here in Barcelona, playing with the dancers whose tour I have crashed - yes, i be the groupie of a sound man (and a Sound Man he is) - and getting to know them over dinner and red wine followed by several shots of tequila gold served with cinnamon and slices of orange. The canela y naranja caused many a raised eyebrow in the London Bar and a smirk or two in La Confiteria, where i also broke a glass. Oops.


But this drink comes to me from a New Yorker. It makes for good bonding with people you barely know. We first did them in some dark bar in Berlin and then again in some smoky bar in Brussels. We eventually traded shots - she gave me this and i gave her Russian Cocaine in Amsterdam on New Year's Eve. Vodka and a lemon wedge dipped in sugar and coffee grinds. When we started on these the party we were at suddenly woke up and was able to match the warzone of fireworks outside.




The hangover from that night prompted a New Year's Day Yum Cha at the Oriental Palace in Amsterdam. Whereas the hangover from a night of tequila in Barca prompted a day of throwing up and sleeping. I didn't leave the hotel, I watched Hilary Clinton address the Senate Hearing, and George Bush give Blair and that weasel Johnnie their medals. It all blurred with dreams of finding the right fridge door - the bright yellow one - in a sea of fridge doors. I could barely keep down a glass of water. I listened to the street below as it woke up from its siesta and as it went to dinner and as it partied into the night. A lost day. I've had these before and they kill me, but i know that i come back from the dead and that sure enough some time again i'll be back here trying to not be so dull.