Worst day of Jonzo's life...
on 2002-12-14 at 6:40 p.m.
Wow, so it's been 8 days, guess that's my penance for being wrong about the fucking vent. Okay so to cap up, there is a vent, it is in the ceiling, I thought it was something else, and now it is only moderately warm in my room. In my defense, I will say that my old room doesn't seem to have one. Sorry to have mislead.
Anyhoo, not much else going on, I'm at work again for the slavedriver of a boss, at my second job. You guys might know him, invisibledon? Anyway, I'm working for him tonight, trying to swing a little extra cash for x-mas. And of course, it never fails that when I want to try to save some money to spend on x-mas, I end up with some major expense. I had to buy new tires to the tune of $500. The old ones weren't completely bald, but we have had some early snow and the promise of more to come. Nothing like nicoleprice's current unfortunate situation, but a large expense nonetheless.
As I was telling a story the other night to invisibledon and onebluegreen it dawned on me, that I had decided when it happened, that I wouldn't share it with anyone outside of who was there, but then I realized it would get out eventually anyway, so I just figured I'd be the first to the punch, and I told most of my family. However, since then I have told nearly no one, and one maker's mark and coke was all it took to get me to tell it again. I'm not even sure how it came up at the time i was telling it, but it's long and involved. I've only ever had two days that I would call my "worst days ever". This one is my current number one, and I don't hope to top it anytime soon.
Okay so here goes, and I'm not even drinking this time...
About 4 years ago at New Years, my parent's and my Aunt and Uncle bought myself, my sister, and my two twin cousins (we will call them Master J and Master A) tickets to Spain to visit the home of Nadia, the foreign exchange student who stayed with us during my senior year of highschool and a couple of subsequent years of college, and who still lives in the US. Anyway, we all flew there soon after x-mas and were to return the week after new years. Everything was going well. At first we were taken aback by some of the food, and everyone went through times of disagreement, mostly from being cramped up together in an apartment for a week and a half. Then New Years eve hit, and it is a big deal in Spain, much like it is here. We had dinner late in the evening, @10pm, and I already was not feeling well, I picked my way through dinner as not to be rude and went on about my business, not knowing what the rest of the evening would hold. About 15 minutes til midnight, they start to explain the Spanish traditions of New Years, mostly involving eating 12 grapes, one for each of the 12 seconds leading up til midnight, and that it was a good luck charm for the coming year. So I start to eat them at precisely 12:59:48, and lo and behold there are seeds I was not counting on, and I don't like seeds, they mess with my stomach. So I choke them down anyway, as much as I can, and I am stuffed to the brim with as much as I could possibly take before I thought I would Ralph,(blow chunks, hurl, scream Europe at the porcelain, whatever you prefer). And I was feeling quite queasy. Nevertheless, when everyone gathered up their things to go out at 1am, I decided to tagalong, because surely I wasn't going to let my only chance in Spain on New Years, to go out with me huddled in bed, so I grab my coat and we hit the car, to go and pick up Nadia's cousin, the whole time with me in the passenger seat getting more and more uneasy about not being near a bathroom, until finally I just had this deep down sinking feeling, that I couldn't hold out much longer, and i just blurted out, "find me a bathroom, ASAP." Well, of course at 1:30am in Madrid on New Years, not a fucking thing is open, and we spend 10 minutes rushing around looking for a bathroom. I have never felt so helpless in my life, like at any minute I could fall victim to the side effects of one of those horrible TV ads for prescription medication (Sudden bowel movements and the inability to control them). And then, when I just couldn't wait any longer, I spotted a large field cordoned off by huge metal barriers, like a construction site in the middle of the city, and my brain says, there must be a port-a-john somewhere around here, so I scream "stop and let me out!" They stop and I haul ass into the construction site through a small entrance that has been left open, and there, sitting on a pile of debris and dust is a brand new commode, just laying there, a little wet, because it also is raining, but clean nonetheless. At least for that split second.
Can you guess what comes next folks? That's right, I dropped trow and did it. Right there, in the middle of dowtown Madrid, on New Year's, in the rain, in a field on a construction sight, I let loose on a toilet on top of a pile of debris. Not my most proud moment, a stray dog even came over to see what was going on and I had to piss in his direction to get him to go away. Sad. sad. sad. And you say, Jonzo that's horrible, that's disgusting, but Wait!!! It gets worse, my night from hell has just started.
Master J, being the loving cousin that she is, brings me some Napkins or something from the car, and I finish my business. All the while I'm apologizing profusely for being sick or whatever has just happened to me. It is very quiet in the car as we drive to our destination 20 miles outside the city. We arrive at this humongous party, in this tiny house, in some city outside Madrid. As we walk in, I have started to recover slightly, and I get some soda ro calm my stomach and we all get guided through the grand tour of the house, starting in the first room, where there is loud rave music and a large population of people jumping up and down, dropping acid and x. Now, I went to college, I'm not unfamiliar to these people's practice, I just choose not to participate because it is just something else to add to the list of things that may eventually kill me. ( I'm already a large guy and don't exercise much, so I figure anything else, other than the occasional alcoholic beverage would be just pushing my luck a little too much.) So we move on from there to a small hallway and up a small set of stairs, barely big enough for me to walk up, and we arrive at the next level, where there are guys playing the guitar and people smoking dope like it's going out of style. At this point I feel like I've suddenly stepped from a weird situation into a weirder one, and contemplate going back downstairs, where at least the music was cool, but there is a huge line of people behind me, and the stairs are not passable. So we move on, up another set of stairs into another small room, where it appears all of the heavy drugs have been brought. I personally catch a glimpse of at least three different narcotics before quickly hitting the last room in the house, the coat room, where I spend the next three hours sitting on the floor holding my gut, Master J, Master A, and my sister, all checking in on me from time to time, and Master J spending most of the night on the floor across from me. Also, the Spaniards think it's fun to keep repeating all the english words they know, and the only coherent sentence I get is "I am a frog." Then he asks me if he said it correctly, I said "you said you are a frog, and I try to explain what a frog is, and he seems to understand, and now thinks he is really a frog. I have no idea what room he came from. So now it is almost daybreak, and I'm exhausted and sick, and I realize that we are in a Crackhouse, 20 miles from Madrid, I don't speak fluent Spanish, and I'm sure the cops don't speak english, so I start making grumblings about leaving. Nadia decides we will all go to her cousin's house nearby and get some sleep, but we now only have enough room in the car for half the crowd. So Nadia drives me, my sister and Master J back to her cousins house, and we are told they will be back in 15 minutes. So we decide to just sit and wait, well hours pass. It is cold, there is no heat, Master J, my sister, and I are all huddled together on a twin bed, with my jacket covering all three of us, huddled together for warmth. It has been several hours since were told 15 minutes, and we are moderately worried, but we try to stay calm cause we don't even know who we would call. So I start looking for things to do, and find a VHS tape and pop it in. Oh goody, it's the Rainmaker, but it's in Spanish, so I decide to translate, except I don't speak Spanish, so I spend the next two hours making up the words to the entire movie. They knew I was making them up and we all couldn't stop laughing. I couldn't figure out why I couldn't stop laughing, until my sister says "Goddamn, I want some pork rinds." I sat straight up and said, "We all have a contact buzz from the fucking weed smoke." Master J and I just kept giggling while my sister kept trying to convince us that there must be pork rinds in the house somewhere because she could almost taste them. Well, after about 7 hours, they all finally show up, and tell us that they thought we were having a bad time, so they didn't want us to wait on them, so they lied that they would be right back. I was pissed, especially after blankets started appearing out of nowhere, and we all went to sleep. That was near the end of the trip, and eventhough Master A and I almost got into a knockdown dragout in the airport, all was forgiven when we touched down at dulles, even though it was cold and I made Master J go with me to get the car, and then got off at a bus stop I knew was the wrong one, because I could see the car, and even though I knew the bus would get us closer, I had to get to the car right then. We stopped at the McDonalds within sight of the airport, and I've never had chicken nuggets so good in my life.
Funny how you can be this boring person and do nothing all the time and then some shit like this happens to you. Then you start a diary and for three months can't think of anything unique to talk about until one day it hits you, I bet no one else has shit in construction field in downtown Madrid on New Years. Then again, maybe I should have kept it to myself.
Day #2 on Jonzo's worst days of all time is to follow tommorrow.
Recent Entries:
Prodigal Jonzo Returns - 2005-09-16
Sober - 2004-02-12
Long time, and Happy Anniversary - 2003-12-08
Getting you up to date... - 2003-11-21
Welcome Home Richard - 2003-11-12
