Bent At The Port

I woke up on Sunday morning with a pounding headache and a sense of dread in my stomach. The events of the previous night were hazy, but I knew enough to feel ashamed. I had made a complete fool of myself at Port 41, in front of my date no less. And now, she was going to come see me perform again at Gizzi’s, where I was supposed to be professional and put on a good show. I tried to shake off the feeling of nausea as I stumbled to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face and looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot, and my hair was a mess. I looked like I hadn’t slept in days. I stood in the shower and tried to remember what had happened the night before. I had gone to Gizzi’s before the show at Port 41, hoping to calm my nerves with a few shots of whiskey. But things had quickly spiraled out of control. By the time I got to Port 41, I was already drunk. I stumbled onto the stage with Morning View and proceeded to make a complete fool of myself. As we took the stage, I felt invincible. I was obnoxious and over-the-top, trying to impress my date who was in the crowd. But in the midst of my drunken stupor, I managed to get my belongings stolen. I had no phone, no wallet, and I spent the night in a drunken haze. The next day, she invited herself to our show at Gizzi’s. Having made it tradition for “friends” to come see my live performances, I completely forgot to let it be known that I would have a date at the show. The Gizzi’s show turned into a complete shit show. Past girlfriends throwing tantrums, a date who forced herself into the front row, and all while I was too drunk to make sense of anything.

Similar Posts