ENEMY LINES

          You pull up out front, neon sign above your head.  You get out of the car, fresh air hits your face and you take in a deep breath of summer night.  You can feel the light thumping vibration from the stereo system inside.  You can hear the low rumble of the dozens of conversations being had.  The serene quietness outside is extreme... the street is void of cars, there is no one in sight... you almost do not want to move.  You just want to take it all in, the whole peaceful moment before the chaos ensues once you enter the battle zone.  It's 12:30 AM and you are about to cross over enemy lines... into oblivion.

          You open the door and there is a bouncer checking IDs, it is finally your turn and he waves you past... why did he not check your ID?  You wonder if you are old looking or if you are just too familiar?  You already know the answer to that but you push it out of your mind as quickly as it came.  You walk through the threshold... you are immediately taken over by the escalated noise level, far louder that you suspected from the outside.  You are also hit with the stench of aging alcohol as it sours in the drains of the old building.  Alcohol has surely absorbed into the woodwork and carpets over the years of spills.

          You see many familiar faces and you embrace with someone for a quick second, then separate only to have a an awkward conversation between them; a drunken person and you; a sober person. 

You ask yourself... 

     Did I talk this loudly when I have been drinking?  Could I not stand steady on my own two feet for more than 5 seconds.  Did I have a red face and an alligator tongue after I sipped that sweet glass of sin?  

Sure you did. 

     Was I belligerent when playing pool with strangers?  Did I shoot pool better sober or drunk?  Was everyone watching me like I am now watching them?  Are they hoping I will leave or shut up?  Am I a cheat or did I muddle the rules of the game to benefit myself?  Would I have normally started talking to the person in the next stall in the women's room?

Yes.

BOTTOM LINE:  Was this really where I wanted to be, or who I wanted to be?