January 6th, 1989

January 6th, 1989

Orlando, Florida

Gabriel’s parents’ house

Doesn’t feel anything like the first week of January does at home. Regardless, the locals are dressed in jumpers and trousers, and I’m still wearing shorts. I even saw a woman wearing a full-length fur coat, and boots. I suppose it’s just what you’re used to.

I went for a bike ride this morning, and ended up at Winn Dixie’s. I need to remember that in the not too distant future, I’ll have a new uniform to fit into, so I must stop eating those freshly baked, delectable cookies with the huge chocolate chips that melt in my hand. Oh yeah, that’ll be easy!

It’s going to feel strange going back to work after such a long holiday. I love it here, and it’s been amazing, but at some point I do need to go home, and get back to the real world (where it’s cold, and I can’t visit my friend, Winn Dixie.)

Gabriel rang to make arrangements for tonight, and as soon as I started to ask him about Miami, he said, “I really want you to come.” Guys make everything simple. Guess I’m going to Miami. Now, that’s exciting.

At ten, Gabriel showed up, as planned, along with his old friends from high school; Chad and Cliff. We had lots of laughs in Chad’s truck on our way over to Wings at the Marriott Hotel. The place was dead though, so we left after only one drink.

Went to TJ’s, where the time seemed to fly, and I wouldn’t have minded staying there (great music) but the boys had other plans. Next stop was Bottle Bar, where, in the parking lot, Chad and Cliff made snorting cocaine look easy. I declined when Cliff asked if I wanted some, and got right out of the truck. Gabriel followed suit.

“You ok?” Gabriel asked.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said, but I didn’t mean it.

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know they were into that kinda shit.”

“It’s not my thing. Is it yours?”
“Shit, no. You sure you’re ok?”
“Just a bit taken aback, I suppose.”

“Yeah, me too.”

We walked, hand in hand, towards Bottle Bar, and as soon as we stepped inside, the atmosphere felt electrifying. We made a beeline for the dance floor, and the crowd went wild when the dj played, ‘Wild Wild West.’ Gabriel and I took turns singing along to the lyrics we knew, but both sang, “I love her eyes and her wild, wild hair.” Gabriel said ‘The Escape Club’ are Brits, I yelled back I was positive they were Yanks! That shut him up. But not for very long.

We danced like there was no tomorrow, and only stopped a couple of times for soft drinks. Because I knew Chad and Cliff were high, there was no way I was getting back in the truck, with Chad behind the wheel. Gabriel agreed with me, so we caught a taxi back. When we were saying bye, Gabriel suggested to Chad and Cliff that they do the same, but I have a feeling the night wasn’t even remotely close to being over for them.

It’s now four forty-five am, and no prizes for guessing whose bed I’m in.



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