Kathy

 Spring break in Newport Beach CA

I walked along the strand until I felt the sun starting to fry my brain and passed out somewhere on the sand. I woke up in bed, alone and confused, because I don’t have a bed or even a room. Someone is knocking on a door. I feel the numb aftermath of marijuana and ’ludes. My mouth is dry, and my throat feels like a dusty staircase. My body is sticky and when I run my fingers through my pubes, they feel damp and clumpy. The air is stifling and reeks of warm beer, tequila and weed. There’s a bong and empty sleeping bags on the floor …the bong is empty too. Someone is knocking on a door and I expect to hear them yelling soon. The police in Newport aren’t too friendly, so I look for another door. I open the only one I find and there’s a guy standing there looking just as confused as me ...and I realize I forgot to put on clothes. He says he’s looking for Jacqueline, and asks me if this is 14-something Bay street. I tell him he’s got the wrong place and point him in a random direction. I close the door, listen to his footsteps go down the wooden stairs, then grab my jeans, a better-looking shirt, and head back toward the strand.