You remember some days for all the wrong reasons
To think about it, isn't it kinda funny how certain numbers from the calendars becomes a thing, like least expected turns from the highway of our lives? You remember some days for all the wrong reasons. December 25th has never been a date that I could recall being an extraordinary day for any specific reasons in my two and a half decade long existence. During school times, it used be just another random day in the middle of winter holidays. Lazing around in the slight dip in the temperature trying to do the assignments and projects. Listening to random Christmas jingles and carols on radio and TV. Digging into freshly baked plum cakes. Seeing the morning newspaper and the magazines that ma used to subscribe to covered with pictures, mostly reds and versions of stories of Christmas. And of course, Santa. All this was, until the 25th of December, 2014. On that day, there was some earth-shattering loss of sagacity, mostly over litres of beer that went in throughout the day. Yes. You read it completely right. Litres of beer. Throughout the day.
It was my first Christmas away from home as a working woman. The morning was well spent I would say. Spent it going in and out of cafes: old and new, vintage and vibrant, around the city I chose to come back to. There was this awesome one that smelt of freshly roasted coffee and baking eggs, with writings in Spanish all over the place and the highlight, a small blue wooden door with a a wreath of Holly and a Bell hanging on the front and that opens with a squeak. Then there was this posh (by the looks and the rates) cafe, which as we entered realized, was inclined more towards a restaurant. As we dragged ourselves out of the place, we found another one. They were busy on a little revamping - high vintage looking tables and chairs had taken their place in the glass walled square room. Black and White was the decor- b&w photographs hung from wired frames on the walls, same toned pots and curios lined the racks and the walls. Lampshades hung upside down from the roof(I'm not kidding!).
As I forgot to mention, what took us, a friend of mine with me tagging along across the city was a recce for a film he wanted to shoot (The guy had enrolled himself for a film making course and in the end found himself to be crazily high on the same). The hot sun that bore down on us, the galloping and all the talking had made us real thirsty. And that is exactly when we chanced upon this beer place in the locality. After all, what can be better than a cold beer on a warm winter afternoon, right? A small, cramped, dark room that reeked of the smell of beer and melting cheese. All this, and the place was still full on a weekday afternoon. We had to get token numbers to get in. Dylan, Marley and few other voices I had no clue about bellowed from the speakers.
We spent a good part of the afternoon drinking from towers of beer and smoking and talking before we decided to call another friend of ours. When she finally turned up, it was with a bunch of Santa Claus caps stuffed down her bag :). The night sneaked upon us as we gave beer a few minutes breather and huddled in the comfort of a fag and clicked away on the mobile camera. Pouts and Red Santa Hats overflowed from the frames! Another hour or two into the insanity, we pestered another one to join us. It was sometime before he turned up. The cycle went on: beer, smoke, talks, laughs, selfies and photos, and yes, the wait at the washroom! Most of those who were there, like us, were shit piss drunk. and I'd tell you, it was not just the beer. It was everything.
The crowd showed no signs of thinning as the clock struck hour after hour. But as midnight struck, the bearers began their attempts at kicking us out royally- by constantly and persistently asking, if that would be all we'd like to order and would we like the bill to be brought. Finally, we had to answer in the affirmative. It was as we took our bags to leave we realized that we were in no shape to stand up and walk out gracefully.
To be frank, I do not remember the conversations at all, except bits and pieces, here and there. Today, I only have the memories.