YOUR OWN WORST ENEMY

One of my parent’s favorite sayings was, “You are your worst enemy. You can achieve anything you wish and the only thing stopping you is you”.  It was good advice and to this day I firmly believe that there is no such thing as luck. Unlucky people sabotage themselves and then blame it on fate because they are too obtuse to realize that they got knocked on their ass because of something they did or did something that they shouldn’t have.

My parents also often said, “Hold your horses” which as a kid sounded stupid because I didn’t have horses to hold. As I got older I realized that when they were kids there were still horses in New York City. The term actually infers, for you uninitiated out there, that you should not let the horses take control and it is your responsibility to insure that you keep control of the situation.

This brings us to tonight’s story. This story is about a poor soul named Barry who failed to learn the lessons that his parents in their wisdom tried to impart on him.

YOUR OWN WORST ENEMY

            I worked late tonight making sure all of the snow and access to fire hydrants and basements of the building development I managed were clear and hazard free. It was cold and blustery and luckily the snowfall had stopped.  My wife was visiting relatives in California and her return flight was cancelled due to the snow storm.

In truth she was a little peeved at me due to going to a nearby bar most evenings and coming home late which was one of the reasons she took a vacation. She insists my drinking is becoming problematic and is insisting I get some help.

Nonsense. I’m a big guy and it takes a lot of drinks to get me even slightly tipsy. Since my wife isn’t home tonight I’m going to go to Bill’s bar and knock down a few drinks to warm up before I go home.

“Hey Bill, how the fuck ya doin’ tonight?”

“ A little slow tonight. I think the weather is keeping most of the regulars away. Always can count on you. How’s work”

“Brutal. I had to clean my car three times to make sure I could drive it home. Luckily I found a cleared out space near my house and hoofed it here. It’s going to take me a few hours to shovel the driveway tomorrow.”

“Give me a rum and Coke and keep ‘em coming. Matter of fact use Diet Coke I’m trying to keep my girlish figure.”

So Bill and I chewed the fat for a few hours and Bill suggested I had enough and to go home.

“ Are you going to be alright going home, Barry? I’d call you a cab but I doubt anyone ‘ll get out here in this weather”.

“What the fuck of course I’m alright. I feel great. You’re starting to sound like the old ball and chain, Bill. I’ll settle up with you Friday”.

“You said that last week. Don’t make me go to your house and break your legs”.

“I love you too. Take care and get home safe”.

“I live right upstairs. See you Friday”.

As I left the bar a police cruiser slowed down and gave a short blast on his siren. The cop on the passenger side happened to be a childhood friend of my son and called out, “Barry… You been drinking?”

            “ A couple. I’m under the limit, flat foot”.

            “ You’re not driving home are you?”

            “ I walked here”.

            “You know it’s illegal to be intoxicated in public even when walking. I’m not saying you are. Just saying.”

            “How about a lift home?”

            “Sure. Hop in”

So my friendly civil servants  provided door to door service and stopped right in front of my house, “You guys wanna come in for a few brewskys?”

            “Maybe another time. The last thing I want is for the Sarge to smell beer on my breath. You want me to walk you in?”

            “ That’s really kind of you but thanks and no thanks. Thanks for the lift guys. Drive safe”.

There are seven steps up to my front door. It seemed like thirty. Feeling a little dizzy. It took me five minutes to open the fuckin’ door and I had to pee so bad I almost lost it. I have to color code the keys to make it easier.

I’m bushed. I think I’m going to go straight to bed. The room is starting to spin slightly. It’s been a long day. Maybe I did drink one too many.  I started to walk down the hallway and there was someone standing there. I slowly advanced towards him and he towards me.

“What are you doing in my house?”

He didn’t say a word. He just stared at me. Maybe I should have taken up the offer and had my friendly police officers walk me in. I said again more forcefully, “What are you doing in my house?”

Again he did not answer. He was a big guy. He looked like shit. My adrenalin started to flow, my hair was standing on end and my heart started to race. Fight or flight, baby. I’m not running. It’s my fucking house. I’ll kill the mother fucker if I have to.

I leaned closer to look into his puffy red eyes. He leaned in to look at me. He looked older than me so I should be able to take him. I charged head first into him and that’s the last thing I remember.

The next morning I found myself on the floor. The Sun was out and the birds were chirping. I have no idea how long I’ve been unconscious but the intruder was gone. I went to wipe my head and found blood on my hand. I pulled myself up and looked into the mirror on my bedroom door and saw a small gash on my head.

Funny, the mirror was cracked.