FIND YOURSELF DANCING
Chapter 5: The Morning After

Carpinteria, CA • Sunday, April 25, 2004

The sun rose over the mountains in the coastal town of Carpinteria. A handful of joggers had started their morning routine before sunrise, making footprint paths down the fresh beach sand. All across town, cars have pulled out from their houses towards the 101 freeway, working their way to northern Santa Barbara or southern Ventura for work.

Attached to the public beach there sat a small public parking lot with a single car parked in its dozen spaces. The sun's rays made their way down to a old, lonely sky blue Oldsmobile station wagon. As the rays worked their way into the cabin of the car, they settled into the back seat and onto the face of a passed out, crumpled up, twenty-four year old Daniel Wright.

Nature’s alarm clock beamed down onto Dan’s face. Today, this sun was a blessing in disguise. Dan's six-foot figure twisted around in the back seat, stretching his legs and arms in any way he can as consciousness reclaimed his body. He sat up and took stock of his mental state.

Drunk.

I’m … drunk.

He slowly opened the door, climbed out of the car, and stretched to the sky one more time. His black, short sleeve collared shirt rides up, exposing the hairy pudge of a belly. He pulls his shirt down and looks at his reflection in the side window. His dark brown hair falls from the top of his head down both sides, meeting an unkempt beard and mustache covering his round face. He wove his fingers through his hair in a feeble attempt to put himself together. As Dan re-entered the car through the driver’s door, the realization hit him again: I’m drunk.

I am so drunk. But it doesn’t hurt. So I’m not hung over yet.

He very slowly and methodically turned the car on and left the parking lot, taking care to follow all traffic rules and regulations. If I’m not hung over yet, he thought to himself, that means there’s still time.

While driving, Dan tried to piece together the night before. His memory starts with a name: Alex. It had to be. Alex still lives back where they grew up together in Grand Terrace. The two friends spoke on the phone yesterday, and Alex did his best to cheer up the consistently down Dan. Ever since he moved back in with his parents, Dan has done nothing social, and his friend insisted he needed to go out and stretch his legs.

On the car’s radio an advertisement for Club 369 was playing. A NON STOP PARTY FROM OPEN UNTIL CLOSE. Dan heard that ad in constant rotation ever since he moved up to Carpinteria six months ago.

Dan felt a folded napkin in his shirt pocket. While at a signal, he unfolded the napkin. Printed on it is a large, stylized blue 3 6 9. Written on top in large letters it also said “GO AWAY”.

The mentally addled man continued to try piecing together the night before. Ready to party in a black short-sleeved button down shirt and black jeans, Dan arrived fifteen minutes after the club opened. He was one of four people there. The bartender showed Dan a spot at the main bar and assured him that the party typically starts later. While drinking a screwdriver, Dan discovered over small talk that the bartender was also named Dan, who then introduced Customer Dan to the one other customer waiting for the party to start: a woman on the other side of the bar.

Dan starts to remember the woman. Wavy blonde hair that fell past her shoulders, she was wearing an unlikely combination of a black leather bikers jacket over a blue and yellow sundress with a striped pattern that he constantly found himself staring at. She said her name was ... he couldn't remember. Why couldn't he remember? They spoke for an hour at the bar: she was from Boston visiting friends, he told her about being from the Inland Empire helping a family member in trouble. She just graduated college and her name was ... what was her name?

As the night continued, the club started to fill with people. The girl excused herself once her friends showed up, leaving Dan to explore the club. What he thought was a small location turned out to be a sprawling campus of nightlife, with three bars, two dance floors, an outdoor patio and a pair of pool tables. After awhile, Dan decided he wanted to spend more time with her, and wanted to try asking her out. But how?

Customer Dan walked up to Bartender Dan, who was still working. They quickly talked about strategy; what would be the best way for Dan to start a conversation back up with her? Bartender Dan noticed Customer Dan was nervous, and offered him a shot. Dan remembers the shot. He took it without hesitating or asking any questions. It was a double shot of Jagermeister. The black licorice flavor worked its way down Dan’s esophagus and it made his face contort like it was something out of an old cartoon.

Dan knew that he needed time for the effects of the liquid courage to kick in, so he did a lap around the club to see where she was.

It didn't take long for her to be found again. She was sitting at a large, recessed booth at the front of the club with five of her friends. Everyone was looking like they were having a good time. All I need to do is walk up, awkwardly ask to sit with them, get politely refused, try again, and be branded as a creep forever, Dan thought. He wasn't confident enough yet to approach her group, but he was also smart to realize that alcohol takes time for it take its effect on him.

Time passed. Five minutes. Ten. The promised buzz never came. Except for a breath that smelled of black licorice, Dan felt the same as he did before taking the shot. Impatiently, he made his way through the growing crowd back to Bartender Dan and asked for another double shot.

Bartender Dan knew better, however. At this point he recognized Customer Dan has been drinking for hours without so much as a cocktail olive to eat. Of course Customer Dan won’t feel the buzz of a double shot of Jagermester. Customer Dan was already drunk. Instead of honoring his request, Bartender Dan cut Customer Dan off.

Rejected, Dan made his way away from the bar and back through the crowd. With no place to go, the young, not-yet-drunk-according-to-himself man walked towards the back of the club. While he walked, he remembered something that will help him get more sociable.

He remembered the club had two other bars.

Dan maneuvered through the crowd in the back of the club to the second bar, asked the not-Dan bartender for a double shot of Jagermeister, took it, then bounced like an overly eager pinball through the crowd to the third bar, where he asked the not-Dan bartender there for a third double shot of Jagermeister, took it, then started to slowly make his way back to the target of his affections, sure that by the time he got to her that all these shots will have done something.

Dan sat in the driver’s seat of the Oldsmobile. He leaned his head on the steering wheel, trying to piece together the rest.

During the walk back to the main bar, the first shot started taking effect. As the two shots of Jagermeister worked their way through Dan’s bloodstream, a tipping point of sorts was reached. Dan didn’t feel uninhibited and confident. Dan felt like the whole club was starting to upend itself under his feet. The young man realized that he had been drinking for the better part of five hours with no food or water, then topped his liver off with six shots in a twenty minute period. His vision started to blur and his balance started to twist, but Dan was able to right himself with a nearby brick wall.

Dan remembered his reason for all the shots: talking to the girl at the booth. His window for action was shrinking, but there was still a window. Focusing as best as he could on his balance, Dan sauntered slowly back to the front of the club, using walls and the occasional other club patron for support.

Right before he reached his targeted table, The second double shot made itself known. Oh, shit. Dan thought. He sat down with the grace of a swan that had just been shot in the ass. The girl and her friends turned and looked at the newcomer awkwardly.

“Hi.” Dan said, followed by silence. “Why is everyone looking at me?”

“You just said oh shit.”

“Oh shit, I thought I just thought it. Can I sit here?”

He pointed at a spot in the booth next to her.

“… Sure.”

Dan sat and looked at her. She looked back at him while her friends continued in their conversation.

After what he though was an eternity, she made the first move. “So … what’s up?”

This is it! The drunk Dan thought to himself, now’s my chance!

He pieced together the most sincere pitch he could. Using all his mental might, Dan attempted a sincere pickup line. “Listen, I really enjoyed talking to you. I understand you’re with your friends right now, so can I call you sometime so we can hang out again?” After he finished, he smiled a big toothy grin. I did it!

However, the third double shot was now coursing through Dan’s system, and despite his attempt to focus on the English language, all that stammered out was, “Listen, rellll yed talking you. Yer with free...yend, call ya?” Dan tilted towards her to let her know he was serious. He was still smiling.

“Look, let me give you this.” The girl reached in to her purse and pulled out a pen and napkin. “I’m with my friends right now, but we’ll talk later, okay?” She wrote a note down on the napkin, folded it up, and handed it to Dan.

Present day Dan realized: that’s why the napkin says GO AWAY. Memories of the night continued to trickle into his brain. He pulled up to a drive through speaker box for breakfast.

"Welcome to Del Taco, what can we make for you today?"

“One moment, please.” Dan’s memories continued to trickle through his brain.

After the girl handed the intoxicated young man the napkin, he placed it in his shirt pocket. He made the herculean effort to stand up from the booth and started making his way back to the back of the club. Dan remembered the outside patio had benches. Benches to sit on. Maybe lay down, if necessary. The night could still be saved if he just took a minute to get his act together. Dan walked in a zigzag pattern from wall to wall until he made it to the back without falling down. Luckily, he immediately found an open patio bench and sat on it. Before long, sitting down turned into laying down, and laying down turned into dozing off.

The next thing Dan remembered was a large, dark hand on his shoulder. The large, dark hand was attached to a large, dark man dressed in a large, dark suit. He looked like a bouncer for the club. Despite his intoxication, Dan put two and two together. This is it, I'm getting thrown out of the club, he thought. He tightened up in anticipation.

"Hey man, are you okay?"

Dan loosened up, his eyes opened a little more. "...okay?"

The man who looked like a bouncer smiled. "Yeah, man. It looks like you've had a rough night. Happens to us all. I’m Bud. Think you could get up if I helped?"

“You’re … not a bouncer?”

“I just need the bench, man. I got a couple of ladies who want to sit on it. There’s three of them and one of you. You understand?”

Dan nodded. Bud lifted the grown man off of the bench and onto his feet in one smooth motion.

"Hey, you're still looking pretty good.” Bud straightened out Dan’s outfit. “Thanks for the bench. Do you think you still need a minute to recover?"

Dan nodded again. "Yeah."

"You know, I know just the place that will fix you up. Get you back to 100% in no time."

“Hey, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Come on, it’s this way.”

Bud led Dan shoulder-to-shoulder to an unassuming, unmarked door in the back of the club. Bud opened the door and led Dan through. The young man was awestruck by this Bud’s generosity. People from Santa Barbara are built different, he thought to himself. Dan looked around at his surroundings in an attempt to get his bearings. He was in an open air area, with plants and benches and ... stoplights? He turned back around to look at the door he was led through. It was closed. On Dan’s side, there was no handle.

He looked around again. Dan was outside. He laughed to himself. At that moment, he wondered how his night could get any worse. How could h--

As if to answer the call, Dan's body chose that moment to throw up the six hours worth of drinking into one of the planters by the door. Countless numbers of half digested screwdrivers and what was left of the six shots of Jagermeister shot out of his mouth and nose. The planter, sidewalk, and Dan himself were hit with the spray. With that, he shamefully stumbled to his Oldsmobile, opened the door, threw the keys into the back seat and passed out. A few hours later, Dan woke up in a less drunken state, fished the keys out from the back seat, and slowly drove back to Carpinteria. Since he didn’t want to wake up his parents and nothing was open yet, he drove to Carpinteria State Beach instead. After parking in one-and-a-half parking spots in the closed parking lot, the last thing Dan had the mental presence to do was move to the back seat so he could pass out in a more comfortable position.

Dan stopped piecing together the previous night, and started piecing together today. He has work today, but he’s in last night’s club clothes and he smells like orange juice, black licorice, and stomach acid. If he goes home and freshens up, he will be late for work. If he goes immediately to work, he spends the day smelling like the inside of a wet dumpster. Dan sat in his car and contemplated his next move.

What will my parents think when I come home? If I go back to the club, will I be able to find that girl again? Will Bartender Dan have me banned? Will Bud remember me?

"SIR, IT HAS BEEN FIVE MINUTES. YOU NEED TO ORDER OR PULL THROUGH."

Introduction
Chapter 1: Last Night
Chapter 2: Anywhere But Here
Chapter 3: Wet Paper Bag
Chapter 4: Harry, Cliff
Chapter 5: The Morning After

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