Cognac Education: A Day in the Life of a Drunk Community College Student

An uncomfortable warmth rolled Henry Shift out of his pillow top mattress along with the piercing sounds of his alarm clock that always screeched away a half hour too early; well before his body, primarily his ears, would be ready to handle it. Then again he was the one who set the time for the day's first unpleasant shock, and as he rolled, covers and all towards the small, black button that shut the morning ball-buster up, his body ended up in a split-second free fall to the carpet below. Henry's realization of the fall caused him to shoot up as fast as he could, swinging wildly at the sleep button, but due to the unfortunate circumstance of being tangled in his blanket, he made a quick return to the floor.

The alarm clock amplified its volume to a level that could provoke inner bleeding of the ears, and while Henry tried to remain calm the sound drove him mad, as he floundered around in a last ditch effort to knock the pest off the stand and into his reach. Succeeding, Henry hushed the alarm clock and crawled from the controlling comforter. Rubbing the crust from his eyes he shuffled into the kitchen where he noticed he'd better get his ass in gear (as the saying goes) as he had a 9:20 class and the time branded on the circular timepiece read 8:48. This wasn't much time with a twenty-five minute ride, accompanied by a ten minute stint waiting to park, as other late sleepers and breakfast eaters all arrived precisely at the time his 1993 tan Lincoln town car rumbled up the hill into the upper parking lot of the county college campus.

Henry hurried through his house, which was colder than a block of ice to bare skin, as he threw on a flannel shirt and a pair of jeans he found balled up at the foot of his bed. As he was making his way out of his room the rat bastard alarm clock started up again, and being that Henry was moving at high speed in its direction he offered up a swift kick that lifted the clock from its spot on the carpet near the comforter, relocating it on the edge of the door jam. Of course this put the noisy box out of commission permanently; and as the alarm clock shattered into various pieces-some big, some small-Henry noticed a pint of Hennessy sitting on the shelf under the liquor cabinet, seemingly staring him the face. A strange thought grew in his mind and since there wasn't any time to deliberate between the pros and cons he grabbed the bottle and made his way to the Lincoln made boat sitting in his driveway.

The v8 roared up, and the lightly dressed Henry cranked the heat dial up, but since the car was far from warm, he was smacked across the face with a large gust of icy cool air. Scurrying to return the dial to its original position, he slammed the car in reverse and flew out of his driveway. Shivering like an orphan in freezing rain he struggled to light the cigarette suspended between his lips. He eventually got the thing lit and it sat frozen in place producing spurts of smoke as the pint of cognac sat in the passenger seat with the label fixed in his direction.

With only ten minutes to go until class started, and fifthteen minutes of driving left, Henry made the desperate choice to crack the plastic lip holding the cap to the bottle; and in a quick motion drew the bottle to his mouth, sucking in the translucent brown liquid as well as the nicotine tainted smoke from the cigarette held tightly within his lips.

Every few minutes he would take a swig as one hand steered the lumbering auto and the other controlled the bottle. Ash from his cigarette fell onto his lap as he had long forgotten about it, and it seemed as if he was using the white tube more like a scuba diver would use an oxygen tank being that it was his primary source of air to his lungs.

But as one would imagine, drinking cognac while using a breathing apparatus is quite a difficult task as Henry would learn on the next swig he took. Being slightly ambitious he went for a gulp, which led to smoke going down the liquid tube and liquid down the smoke tube. The cigarette flew out of his mouth as he choked from the always unpleasant mix up, reminding him of its existence as it burned a tiny hole in his pants near his crotchial region. Regaining his respiratory functions he tossed the cigarette out the window at the moment a cop car was passing by. Making the mistake of following the cop car with his head rather than his peripheral vision and mirrors, Henry was positive he was most certainly in for what would be an early end to his day.

Speeding up, occasionally glancing at his rear-view to see if the devil's bounty hunter was coming down on him, his paranoia faded as he remembered the markings on the vehicle-"Fire Marshall." "Enough drinking for now," he thought quietly to himself as he turned the volume dial on his radio to a level where John Lee Hooker drowned out any other thoughts sure to set his head on fire with visions of certain ill-fate and prison shower halls. Wiping the ashes from his lap he shook the heavy breaths and remained calm for the remainder of his trip.

With class in the process of starting, he casually rolled into the upper lot that had similar characters to himself waiting in line for a spot on pavement. Not wanting to sit through the wait, and not caring enough for smooth ground beneath his tires, Henry settled for the gravel lot down a slight incline, behind the upper lot. Grabbing his half-full bottle of Hennessy, he slung his bag of books over his shoulder and locked his car via remote as he made his way towards his first class. With his keys secured in his pocket he walked sipping on his bottle as the liquid was near complete in its transfer from bottle to gut.

Finishing the bottle as he emerged from along side the E building walkway, Henry pulled a cigarette with his left hand and flung the bottle up and over his shoulder with his right, causing it to crash ferociously onto the black asphalt behind him. The loud shattering and popping sound caused a group of males at the entrance of the building to jerk their heads immediately in the sound's direction. After realizing it came from Henry's hand they offered up a, "Fuck yeah," that was answered by a coy smile made around the cigarette sitting in Henry's mouth. He moved on towards the lower campus where class was already in full effect. The air was warm to him, but the cognac had more of a role in the temperature change than the weather.

He struggled trying to pass a girl on the staircase, not because the traffic coming the other way was too much to handle, but because his eyes were fixated on her buns of glory as he mentally referred to them. This caused a slight chuckle resulting in the young girl to turn around with an inquiring look on her face. As their eyes met both of their expressions took a dramatic turn as hers was one of sheer trepidation, causing her head to snap around and her feet to speed up. Henry's look, however, was one of absolute horror. Her face was like a worn out baseball mitt, with craters here and there, immediately causing her buns of glory to lose their power, replacing it with an image that could make any self respecting man throw up in his mouth and proceed to swallowing it as a means of self-inflicted punishment for wanting any kind of sexual contact with Ms. Chernobyl 1986.

This also led to another outburst of laughter, which the fine assed, sad faced girl heard, but did not turn to acknowledge. Her increase in walking speed was acknowledgement enough, and Henry immediately realized that he was surely in for an interesting day as he was already exhibiting signs of the creepy, leering drunk only minutes before his ten minute tardy entrance to class. Snuffing the cigarette out on a stone pillar before entering, Henry gave himself an in-head pep talk and quickly rushed through the lobby before realizing an odd, nagging feeling coming from stomach.

"Oh shit," he proclaimed, out loud and clear enough for the secretaries to glance up from their morning crossword puzzles. And that's precisely what it was-shit-well at least that nagging sensation in his stomach. It wanted out, and it wanted out immediately. It is one thing to smell like booze, but only the lowest of alcoholics allow the combination of hard booze and fecal matter to mix in a devastating scent that is sure to keep a ten foot radius around the person in question. Henry had better sense than that despite his earlier choice of downing a pint of Hennessy while driving up to early morning college classes.

But, hey it was county college, far from the academic professionalism that all students attending universities exhibit. And if only that were true; if anything university students could and would up the ante by swallowing a sheet of acid and heading to class in board shorts and a straw hat; seeing as they don't have to operate a vehicle. Well the board shorts and straw hat are irrelevant as well as excessive, but you catch the drift. Meanwhile our pal Henry was catching a different drift, one of foul air, so foul in fact that it drove out the only person who decided to enter the restroom during his time on the porcelain waste trap.

As Henry tried to get together a ball of toilet paper an irritating problem prevented him from doing this in a timely fashion. Ripping tiny bits off with each attempt only added to his frustration as he was now twenty-five minutes late, and stuck in a public restroom as his drunk only gained strength. He finally got it together, but not before he dripped a little bit of urine on his shirt as he stood bent over trying to get the required amount of TP out of the dispenser, which he accidentally knocked off as his hammer fist technique proved too forceful.

Tucking in the tainted shirt corner, he splashed some water on his hands and dried them on his pants as he rushed up the stairs to the third floor where his Theology class was pushing on without him. Chris Charleston was his professor for this holy class of wholesome education, and he sure had a knack for bringing good values into his lectures as he would speak vividly on the slaughtering of various Jews, Christians and any other group bold enough to disagree with another's religion. "And Peter was crucified upside down, causing the blood to flow down into his head where it exploded like a grape under the pressure. On another side of fatality due to odd trauma to the head, Paul was beheaded; sliced off in similar fashion to cutting a watermelon in half with a butcher's cleaver."

Henry stood outside the door to class listening in on Professor Charleston's fruitful lecture, trying to find the right moment to duck in and snag his seat. "All right class I want you to read this article and we will discuss it shortly." Silence, this was the time; Charleston had to be at his desk looking down at some important memo. He crouched low and turned the corner in a quick speed walk that caused him to run face first into Charleston's stomach as he was on his way to turn the classroom lights back on. "Jesus Christ" said a frightened Henry.

"Never use that name in vain," announced Professor Charleston who was staring down at the frozen Henry still in the crouch position. He straightened up confidently,

"No, no I was…uh…simply stating his glory. Right, Jesus Christ…my lord, my savior..."

"Shut it and find a seat. You are being marked absent, but it would be unkind of me to prevent you from witnessing the remainder of class."

Slightly confused, but not wanting the spectacle to continue he began making his way to the last available seat, awkwardly surveying the rest of the class to see if any strange stares were locked onto him. The seat was beside an attractive brunette who was Dolce'd out accompanied by various designer gadgets, accessories and whatever else carrying a high price tag for something made by malnourished Asians sitting on a long wooden bench. Letting out a loud sigh as he settled in, the girl glanced slightly in his direction, but quickly returned her attention to the paper or at least made it seem that way.

In a low whisper Henry reached out to the girl, "Hey…what are we suppose to be doing?"

"Reading this article."

"I didn't get one, do you mind if I look on."

"If you want." He leaned in, strolling through the page with his eyes, breathing out his mouth, which happened to cause an unexpected outburst, "Eww…you reek like a drunk homeless person!" The entire classroom turned their attention to the girl who was now upright and leaning away from Henry who again sat puzzled and in a fixed position.

"It's probably your cheap perfume. It was burning my nostrils."

"Excuse me? This is the finest, most expensive perfume imported straight from France."

"Well that explains why you smell like a French whore." Enraged by the comment she went in for a smack, but Henry ducked causing her to slam her hand on the computer monitor, breaking one of her nails. Henry grabbed his book bag, hurrying towards the door as he knew he was no longer welcome, "Goddamn lady. You need to have your head checked."

As Henry finished his blasphemous statement, Professor Charleston spoke up, "I told you to refrain from using the lord's name in va…"

"Cram it child-toucher." It was a subtle exit move as it froze up not only Charleston, but most of the class who was running through a simple identification process in their heads-connecting the dots, observing the picture of a man frozen in time. It was, in fact a time where stat rape and pedophilia were the newest trends. But Henry was gone by the time Charleston could gather himself enough to turn back towards the puzzled class. "Never mind that, let us discuss the article you just read…Socrates the Pederast"

With forty minutes to kill between class, Henry found a bench and sparked one of the last cigs left in his pack. Only a crazed, homicidal maniac would find sitting on a bench in the windy mid-forty degree weather a fine choice, but then again crazed, homicidal maniacs have one thing in common with people under the influence of alcohol. That being of course other things on their mind, and Henry wasn't concerned with the weather. He was too busy trying to figure out what to do for the forty minutes he now had, and sitting down to smoke a cigarette was a start. After a few minutes of fierce pondering he decided to stroll back up to his car and listen to some music.

He arrived at the spot where his car was parked in no time at all. Ah, the beauty of chemically altering the mind and the perceptual changes that manifest thereafter. Time moved at a quicker rate than usual to Henry so you can see why he was shocked when he realized his car was missing. It was no longer than a half hour after he left his car, and only around 10 minutes in his mind. "You have to be fucking kidding me?" Turning and walking away from the statement he walked with purpose back down to the lower campus where he found himself standing over an old secretary who had managed to snooze off.

His palms slammed loudly onto the counter causing the wrinkled, prune eater to snap back to reality. She looked around as if there had been a shooting, but eventually locked eyes with the 6 foot, mangy haired man who was casting a shadow over her workspace. "May I help you," she asked in a frightened tone of voice.

"You certainly can. I need you to call Security immediately and ask if those shit for brains, high school drop outs towed any cars away today."

Her head cocked slightly to the left like a confused dog, "Why? Is your car missing?"

Henry's eyes widened and the booze lulled him into a false sense of disbelief, "No I just like waking secretaries on their death nap and inquiring about towed vehicles on county college campuses. Yes, my car is missing."

The old lady reacted more like a bank teller being held up as she shied away from eye contact with Henry and made the call to the security office. Occasionally she glanced up to signal to him that she was cooperating and that he should refrain from doing anything he might regret. For the first time in Henry's life he had someone cowering in fear to him, and it was all because his blood was flowing with Hennessy in a situation that would normally consist of him staring blankly at some professor ranting and raving about why philosophy is the devil's recruiter.

"Thank you, I will tell him," said the fear filled senior. "I'm sorry, but they haven't towed any cars today. I can phone the police if you would like."

"NO! Its all right, I'll look harder. Thank you. Bye…right." Tapping the desk as his head turned towards the door, Henry stormed out as he almost came close to an encounter with the cops involving a car, and himself-a highly drunk and disorderly person. With a day that had evolved into a total shit storm, Henry wasn't exactly up for his consumer economics class or any of his other classes for that matter. Dialing 411 on his cell phone he obtained the number to a local taxi company and had one sent to his location.

The ride back to his house cost him around eighty bucks plus a tip, which he decided to give in the literal sense. "Thanks for the ride, and remember to always use protection." Now since a tip wasn't required all the cab driver could do was speed off angrily flinging obscenities at Henry until he was out of range. The move was a bad decision considering the cab driver seemed like a lost cause in the traditional sense of the term, and was probably the type who valued good ole' fashioned revenge. And being that he knew where Henry lived it wouldn't be too hard to drag him from his bed in the middle of the night and proceed to leaving Henry with a few tips of his own.

But that doesn't really matter since the cab driver was gone, and Henry was left without a car, eighty dollars lighter and at that stage of his drunk where self-loathing tends to make an appearance. To add to this mess was a phone call from Henry's friend, Mike that went something like this, "Hey man how goes it?"

Henry at this point was put off by the energy in Mike's voice so his response was fitting. "Eh."
"Eh? All right well anyway you want to meet up by hiking trail for a quick session?"
"I'm not at school.

"What? Quit fucking around, I just saw your car." Henry's head hit the table as he dropped the phone. "Henry? You there man? Seriously cut the shit." With his head still on the table he managed to hit the end call button as Mike's voice echoed from the phone's speaker. Henry thought it was about time for a well deserved nap, so he sat there at the kitchen table with his forehead firmly planted on its surface and passed out.