I awoke with a jolt, there was no sound. No, the room was silent but as always I jumped to see what time it was. It was dark, no light, but that's the way it is when you've crashed in a hotel room. The thick curtains are great for concealing the light that blinds you at this hour in the morn. 10am. Fuck, but okay all the same. We've got an hour or so to get everything packed up and go. My friend was still passed out on the bed. Myself, I was shivering and on the floor because I was sharing a room, I'd slept on the floor. I had payed my way by being bar tender/hostess the night before. Mixing drinks, making sandwiches and making sure people weren't taking shit from our room. Right, I was cold, yes, so I went to the closet to find that my jacket wasn't there. um...where...did I put it. In a headachey haze I managed to find it laying on the floor next to where I had passed out. From there it was a matter of...wait, what was I saying? Packing up? Right. I...uh... “HEY BUDDY IT'S ALMOST TIME TO GO!?” I found myself saying in an otherwise obnoxious tone of voice. God damn, need a smoke. Shit! But first, gotta go get something..or something. “Do you want anything to drink?” I asked my roommate, and by drink I meant something from the vending machine down the hall, not in the room, everything was gone as far as I was concerned. I just want to go home now. When I returned with delicious beverages, I went out to the balcony for a smoke. The pounding started. I took a long drag and tried to recollect the previous night's events. It came to me in irky bits and pieces. This is the best cigarette. But the nausea came on in waves, I was still too out of it to give too much of a shit. Or so I thought. In my fleeting bits and pieces of whatever the only thing I could think was "something's wrong, something's wrong" but I quickly shut my mind up with a swift “won't you start living already?”. Nothing was wrong. I had a lot of fun last night. I'm just this way. With drinking, I mean. I can have a good time and then feel like shit the next morning, not just physically but mentally. Nothing is ever wrong but still I feel this feeling. It's over with. I began to clean up the room, checking all of the drawers and closets to make sure that nothing was left behind. My roommate and I had made some decent conversation and I remember reciting some half drunken words of wisdom that I can't remember now. It doesn't really matter though because who reads this shit? These kids are so loud. They fill the hotel like cockroaches. Brightly colored clothing and full of things that I can't relate to. I feel old. I'm only 23. only...if only..if only I weren't so bitter. I told my roommate, as we took a load to the car, about how I felt though nothing was wrong. He brought up the fact that maybe my body is telling me something. I think maybe it is, perhaps, a stubborn bitch. We got back to the room soon enough to grab more stuff to take to the car. I decided to make breakfast, or lunch, or whatever with whatever we had left from the party the night before, booze excluded of course. I made some turkey and cheese sandwiches, with a side of chips. I can't imagine that eating any of the leftover vegetables would have been a good idea. There I sat contemplating another smoke. One bite, two bite. The nausea came on again in waves. It was the driest sandwich I've ever eaten. I didn't puke. Won't these kids shut the fuck up, I'm trying to write here. Maybe if I light up. There, that got them out of here quick. So after the sandwich, I...I took the elevator downstairs. Don't you just hate it when you're not in an elevator but it feels like you are do to lack of sleep and too much caffeine and anxiety. I bought another space invaders cellphone charm. I was so “charmed” (derp) that someone at a weeaboo convention was selling video game merchandise. Not only that, it was made by hand which was also equally charming. I do a little bit of art and crafty stuff myself so I can appreciate such things. Some dude in the dealer's hall was selling some old school games. I asked how much it would be for their Mario 3 cartridge. $16. $16?! All I could do was give a nod and say “cool.” as I walked away. Now I sit poolside writing this, head still pounding, well sort of. I was able to keep my personal stash, a bottle of something, hidden in a corner behind the bulky curtain during the party and had some left over. I mixed what was left of it with the diet Dr pepper from the vending machine. Oh good, the noisy kids left, now I can get to some real writing....shit.