April, 2007

A handful of potent purple pills were split in halfs and ingested. Twenty minutes later we were coming up on them like floaters being released from an underwater anchorage surging to the surface of a watertank.
The boys immediately pitched into a brawl. Lena and Shurik threw themselves into the mix, too, and soon I also had an arm or leg entangled in the whole mess. The next day Flor had a black eye, and the rest of us were adorned with deformed inkblots and blurred black-to-blue blossoms of bruises on limbs and shoulders. Anyway, none of us had a clear memory of how that had happened and what happened after that. One distinct thing I can still make out is that not long after the scuffle, I puked all over myself and subsequently practically felt my pupils pop even larger.

There was a nazi-concert not far from the house that night and with these goddamn monster pills we were just about in the right mood to go for a serious punch-up. Luckily we were also too damn drunk already, so that, all dressed up with our crash-helmets on and our baseball-bats at the ready, we collapsed in laughter on the stairs on our way out and cancelled the whole affair.

This may be the one evening when it's fair to say that alcohol may have saved my life.