Worst day ever [repost because of rollback!]
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2 Sep 2009, 06:07
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Journals
Disclaimer: Was posted a while ago but got lost during the rollback. Managed to find on Google-cache. Reposting for safe keeping!
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Last night I went out in Birmingham and instead of being sensible and travelling home on the night, I ended up staying at a hotel at Birmingham International Airport
I was woken up by a telephone ringing. I tried to ignore it, hoping someone else would answer it. After at least a minute of ringing, I peeled myself off the hotel room floor, opened my eyes and saw that no-one else was going to answer the phone as I was the only person in the room. I stood up to make to my way to take the call, only to realise I was still drunk and VERY hungover. The room was spinning, my throat was dry, my head was pulsing, my mouth tasted like sick and my stomach was upside down. I picked up the phone to hear "Hello Sir, it's reception calling. You were supposed to check out 2 hours ago. Could you check out please". So naturally, I'm thinking what the fuck.
I checked my jean pockets to find an iPod with no battery, a phone with 1% battery and then the cherry on top, opened my wallet to find a massive 3 pence staring at me. These, along with my sick-stained shirt, sick-stained jeans and my sick-stained shoes were my only possessions to travel from the Airport to my home, 33 miles away.
I stumbled out of the hotel room, looking like shit and feeling worse. I made it about 100 yards before I began viciously dry heaving. Be under no false illusions, this is about the worst I'd ever felt. After wandering out of the hotel and visiting 2 public toilets to puke liquid into, I got on a train to B'ham New Street. I didn't have any money on me, or in my bank account so I couldn't pay for a ticket. Luckily for me, there was no inspector on the train. Unluckily for me, I forgot about the ticket barrier at the station. The guard didn't buy my story about leaving my ticket on the train, so gave me a £15 fine to take home with me. Joy!
I had to cross Birmingham to get to Moor Street to get a train home, which was pretty fucking awful. I stunk of sick by now, so was a public disgrace. Once at Moor Street, I was sick again in their toilets. I'd been sick so many times that all I was throwing up was a yellow/green liquid (which I can only assume was stomach acid) which burnt my nose and smelled really foul.
Without paying for a ticket again, I boarded a train to Cradley (near where I live) and managed to borrow a nice mans phone to ask my Mom to pick me up from the station. I wobbled onto the train, picked a seat in the corner and curled up wanting to die. I sat head in lap for a few stops, then there was a ruckus as I could hear plenty of people boarding the train. I tried to keep a low profile, hoping these people didn't notice the state I was in, so didn't look up. I could hear someone sit near me, then I recieved a poke in the ribs. "I don't need this" I thought, but convinced myself it was an accident, like someones bag falling on me. Unfortunately a second poke followed. I wearily raised my head and opened my eyes, to see a child with Downs Syndrome. He was delighted to see me! He smiled and waved. Not wanting to be rude, I smiled back, and then retreated to the feotal position.
For the grand finale, this kid slapped me in the head. Now, I don't know whether he was angry at me, or that was his way of saying hello. But what I do know is that as a knee-jerk reaction, as soon as I felt his hand, sick rushed up my throat. I couldn't stop it so quickly and it flew out ALL over this Downs Syndrome kids legs and shoes. I sat there stunned, not even beginning to believe what had just happened, when this woman started screaming at me. Not your average scream, but a furious, screeching scream. I looked around to see at least 15 other children with Downs Syndrome staring at me. I'd never felt so low. Obviously, some sort of day out had turned pretty sour. I didn't have any tissues or anything to clean up the mess. I profusely apologised to the carer woman, and to the kid, who didn't really seem to understand.
I took a torrent of abuse for the next few minutes, until we arrived at my station, where I was greeted by my Mom. I came home, went straight to bed. Had to get up to play some prac tonight, and now here I sit, still eating the same banana I've been trying to digest for the last 4 hours.
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Last night I went out in Birmingham and instead of being sensible and travelling home on the night, I ended up staying at a hotel at Birmingham International Airport
I was woken up by a telephone ringing. I tried to ignore it, hoping someone else would answer it. After at least a minute of ringing, I peeled myself off the hotel room floor, opened my eyes and saw that no-one else was going to answer the phone as I was the only person in the room. I stood up to make to my way to take the call, only to realise I was still drunk and VERY hungover. The room was spinning, my throat was dry, my head was pulsing, my mouth tasted like sick and my stomach was upside down. I picked up the phone to hear "Hello Sir, it's reception calling. You were supposed to check out 2 hours ago. Could you check out please". So naturally, I'm thinking what the fuck.
I checked my jean pockets to find an iPod with no battery, a phone with 1% battery and then the cherry on top, opened my wallet to find a massive 3 pence staring at me. These, along with my sick-stained shirt, sick-stained jeans and my sick-stained shoes were my only possessions to travel from the Airport to my home, 33 miles away.
I stumbled out of the hotel room, looking like shit and feeling worse. I made it about 100 yards before I began viciously dry heaving. Be under no false illusions, this is about the worst I'd ever felt. After wandering out of the hotel and visiting 2 public toilets to puke liquid into, I got on a train to B'ham New Street. I didn't have any money on me, or in my bank account so I couldn't pay for a ticket. Luckily for me, there was no inspector on the train. Unluckily for me, I forgot about the ticket barrier at the station. The guard didn't buy my story about leaving my ticket on the train, so gave me a £15 fine to take home with me. Joy!
I had to cross Birmingham to get to Moor Street to get a train home, which was pretty fucking awful. I stunk of sick by now, so was a public disgrace. Once at Moor Street, I was sick again in their toilets. I'd been sick so many times that all I was throwing up was a yellow/green liquid (which I can only assume was stomach acid) which burnt my nose and smelled really foul.
Without paying for a ticket again, I boarded a train to Cradley (near where I live) and managed to borrow a nice mans phone to ask my Mom to pick me up from the station. I wobbled onto the train, picked a seat in the corner and curled up wanting to die. I sat head in lap for a few stops, then there was a ruckus as I could hear plenty of people boarding the train. I tried to keep a low profile, hoping these people didn't notice the state I was in, so didn't look up. I could hear someone sit near me, then I recieved a poke in the ribs. "I don't need this" I thought, but convinced myself it was an accident, like someones bag falling on me. Unfortunately a second poke followed. I wearily raised my head and opened my eyes, to see a child with Downs Syndrome. He was delighted to see me! He smiled and waved. Not wanting to be rude, I smiled back, and then retreated to the feotal position.
For the grand finale, this kid slapped me in the head. Now, I don't know whether he was angry at me, or that was his way of saying hello. But what I do know is that as a knee-jerk reaction, as soon as I felt his hand, sick rushed up my throat. I couldn't stop it so quickly and it flew out ALL over this Downs Syndrome kids legs and shoes. I sat there stunned, not even beginning to believe what had just happened, when this woman started screaming at me. Not your average scream, but a furious, screeching scream. I looked around to see at least 15 other children with Downs Syndrome staring at me. I'd never felt so low. Obviously, some sort of day out had turned pretty sour. I didn't have any tissues or anything to clean up the mess. I profusely apologised to the carer woman, and to the kid, who didn't really seem to understand.
I took a torrent of abuse for the next few minutes, until we arrived at my station, where I was greeted by my Mom. I came home, went straight to bed. Had to get up to play some prac tonight, and now here I sit, still eating the same banana I've been trying to digest for the last 4 hours.
I love you.
hahaha