A Yearly Tradition During Spring Break

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We met on Friday night.

She finished her midterm and then immediately called me.

“Gen, I’m done! Woohoo! I’m coming over!”

She came over in a ball of a frenzied frazzle.

“I’m done! Wanna do salvia? Wait, hold on, how about beer? But let’s get food…pizza? Or sushi? But then what do we first?”

I watched, amused by the cuteness of her bouncy indecisive excitement. It was only exacerbated when D-German started tossing in sarcastically worried remarks that I instantly caught, but which she didn’t.

“But which will you order, sushi or pizza? Sushi is really good…”

“Yea, I love sushi!”

“But pizza is sooo much cheaper…”

“Oh man, you’re right…”

“And what if you guys get tired after doing salvia? Then your whole night is shot…”

“Yea…that’s true…we’ll drink beer first!”

“But, but, what if you guys get some strange reaction from being tipsy and smoking salvia?”

“Oh my god! You’re right…”

“Maybe you should Wikipedia it…”

“Yea, yea, Gen do you have a computer?”

I finally told her he was teasing her and both D-German and I busted out laughing.

She laughed along, but then I guess her primary concern hit.

“Wait…so sushi?”

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I made the decision.

Pizza, salvia while waiting for the delivery and then drinking and eating while watching Friday Night Lights. If we had tried to agree on a mutual consensus, I think I would’ve still been trying to get past her wall of indecisiveness while we drowned from the melting of the polar ice caps.

Of course, I had to decide the pizza order as well, since she found every pizza equally good and was bouncing back and forth between them like Pong on cocaine. I chose the Meatlover’s (“Good choice! I was just about to choose that one!”) from Dominoes (“Yes! Dominoes is good!”) and then we hit up the salvia.

In the previous entry, I made it seem like we couldn’t find this stuff, but after our pitstop at Mickey D’s we managed to locate the store by chance. Talking about drugs is pretty fucking boring and sounds retarded to someone who wasn’t part of the high, so I’ll refrain from sharing my experience, but the aftereffects of salvia are extreme languidness and tiredness.

So after coming down from the high, the pizza came, we grabbed some beers and sat on my bed to watch Friday Night Lights.

Now, for some background information.

As I mentioned in previous entries, no one really knows DL. So everyone has been extremely infatuated with the play-by-play I provide…no one really knows her besides a few pictures that are up on Bookface. And everyone has asked me the same question, “You’ve only got two months left in this frozen tundra…why are you going after this girl? What makes her worth it?”

At which point, I gush about all the things that make her amazing (read the previous entry if you're interested in infatuated young male "love"). This usually leads to two reactions…guys will usually make a face that resembles their reaction to watching Two Girls, One Cup while eating chunky chocolate chip ice cream…and girls will melt into little balls of goo as they go, “Awww, you’re in love!”

Though the reactions are strikingly different, the advice they all throw is the same…”Make a move or tell her your feelings!”

So I decided Friday I would do it. She would finish her last midterm, she would come over, we would get slightly inebriated, and while we were watching Friday Night Lights, I would make a realtime decision and shoot for either a kiss or a kokuhaku.

So as we watched young Texan boys grunting into heaving piles of testosterone, the only thing on my mind was, “How do I pop it?”

But there was one major flaw in my amazing plan. The previous night, I had partied until 4am with some Japs, doing the obligatory drink my face off and then, as usual when I’m with a Japanese group, grind-the-shit-out-of-the-Princess-in-a-seedy-club routine.

So I was more than a little hungover and tired.

DL had slept 3 hours in the last 35 hours.

The combination of fatigue, drugs and alcohol hit us like a Chris Brown right to Rihanna's face and we collapsed into my bed.

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I was rudely slapped back into reality by my cellphone.

I shut my eyes back, hoping to drift back into unconsciousness, but my cellphone persisted.

Fuck!

I groped for my phone, managed to extract it out and through blurry eyes, glanced at the time.

3:00am. 3 in the fucking morning!

I had for some reason set my alarm for 3:00am.

Why the fuck?!

My conscious slowly filtered back into my addled mind. Oh…I slowly rotated my head right.

DL.

Sleeping on my bed.

Oh shit.

Oh SHIT!

But I threw aside all selfish thoughts, I needed to wake her up…her flight was leaving soon.

“DL, wake up. It’s 3:00am.”

She groaned and cracked open one eye underneath a shield of hair.

“Let’s sleep another 45 minutes.”

She smiled, humored by a strand of hair bobbing in front of her with each exhale. She sleepily blew it away…and I almost lost it with this erotic action. But thankfully, her breath smelled like a hit of acrid salvia smoke, half a pie of Domino’s Meatlover’s Pizza and two stale bottles of Pabst Blue Ribbon so I was able to restrain myself without too much difficulty.

I swallowed. “Ok. I’ll set my alarm for 3:45.”

“Ok.” She flipped, turned and huddled into a little ball.

I hesitated…I had never even hugged this girl…but predatory instinct took over and I took the waiting big spoon position.

I guess my predatory instinct hits a wall after spooning though. I have a long history of not being able to advance from spooning—and this moment was no different. I tried everything, but nothing worked and I just ended up getting slightly frustrated and slightly amused. This failure in moving past spooning with DL was occurring at the exact one year anniversary of the failure in moving past spooning with Chiaki…obviously a coincidence but my literary mind was tying them together into “meaningful” connections.

But considering how far I had already gotten (spooning before hugging?), I wasn’t going to complain. I quickly drifted off into dreamland with her warm body pressed up against mine.

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Once again, I was jarred awake by my cellphone.

But I wasn’t going to leave this position. I desperately clenched my eyes in hopes the offensive alarm would abate.

It persisted.

Finally, I stretched myself up with one arm, rudely wrenched my cellphone from my pocket and angrily punched off the alarm.

I looked down.

She was still peacefully asleep, huddled into a little ball, her long hair fanning behind her on the pillow. I was laying up on my side, my right arm on the pillow supporting all my weight.

And without thinking, my head started tilting down, following my arm towards the pillow.

I screeched to a halt, my elbow bent at an awkward angle, shakingly supporting my weight.

“What the fuck are you doing? She’s fucking asleep…what the fuck is going to happen? Think about the fucking consequences! Are you fucking retarded? Do you understand what the fuck you're doing?”

My puny arm was already burning from holding up my even punier body, forcing a decision without rumination: push myself back up or keep going.

I looked down.

I'm smart. I know probability. I know some psychology. I'm Asian. I know the numbers. I knew the correct decision.

I started to sigh…and then stopped myself mid-exhale.

But I'm from New York, bitch!

“Aww…fuck this shit.”

I swooped down.

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