A Rude Departure

Twenty four hours had passed since Shrimp and I had adhered ourselves to each other's company. Not a long time by any means, but I'd already begun to question her motives. Why? I couldn't quite say. I wasn't sure. Our conversations weren't quite... fluid. Something was missing. I didn't want to spend any time figuring it out though - if problems would manifest, they would do it of their own accord. I wasn't ruining my trip by being over-analytical. Not yet, at least.

Maybe the excitement of our journey was being diluted by the fact that I also had to look forward to detoxing from a six month heroin binge. I'd just eaten the last of my kratom (a wonderful herb from southeast Asia) that was easing my would-be withdrawals, ate my last ativan (my anxiety medication prescribed by the ol' Doc which I didn't want to fly with since my name had worn off my med bottle) and was ready to face the music.

We spent our last night in Canada at Shrimp's sister's house with her and her brother. Their family was reunited. I felt like an outcast, listening to them share gossip of people I'd never heard of before and laugh in the tight-knit way that only a comfortable family can do. The floor didn't even pay any attention to me, so I serenaded the room with some soothing guitar in a malicious attempt to send them all to sleep.

It didn't work, but something strange happened. Be it the alcohol, the deceptive intent behind my music scheme, or a fucking perverse poltergeist, I found myself rudely awakened after we'd gone to bed. I wasn't woken up in the couch where I'd passed out though, nay - I was awoken to Shrimp's brother and sister, shouting at me through half-opened eyes and pulling me by the wrist through a door I didn't recognize.

I was so baffled and haggard that I couldn't even get a word in edgewise. Turns out the door they were pulling me was the neighbour's. Turns out they were yelling at me for something I'd later find hilarious.

I didn't remember any of this though. I woke up the next morning early with a sense of disorientation, discomfort, and  a rampant desire to take a shit (this is necessary for the furthering of this story.) I shat. Turns out, Shrimp's sister's toilet was clogged. I didn't know this until post-shit. I fiddled around with the bulb in the back until Shrimp woke up, with no avail.

"We've gotta go." She didn't seem happy with me.

"The toilet's clogged." I noted an undertone in her voice. "You okay?"

"Am I okay? You broke into our neighbour's house to try and take a shit last night!"

My gaze flatlined. My brain hesitated before bursting out into the only response I could consider - laughter. "Really?"

My laugh bounced off her and landed in the toilet with my shit. She didn't smile. "Yes."

"Well, damn. On top of that, I just clogged your sister's toilet. She's really not going to like me."

"That doesn't matter. Let's go."

So, we went. Thanks, Sister of Shrimp, for your hospitality. I'm sorry I left such a shitty memory.

At least the adrenaline rush of our fecal escapades left me nearly oblivious to one hindrance: I was supposed to be going through withdrawals. Oh well.

Time to catch our flight.