I had a full fifth of vodka with large red letters on the label and I decided to drink some of it. I poured some into a small glass, drank it, and was surprised to discover that it had a rather pleasant taste – not the acerbic bitterness I had anticipated. I repeated the process several times, thinking how much better the drink would be if I could squeeze some orange juice into the glass. After consuming perhaps half the contents of the bottle, I decided I had probably had enough. I stood, put the bottle into my back pocket, and walked out onto the sidewalk.
I immediately realized I was on Gay Street in Portsmouth right behind where the Laroy Theater used to be. No sooner had I stepped onto the sidewalk than I felt my wobbly legs crumple beneath me, and I fell, almost landing in the street filled with oncoming cars. I quickly stood back up, embarrassed and hoping no one had seen me. Obviously I had succeeded in becoming quite intoxicated, and as I staggered down the street, I wished I could shake the feeling. I pulled the bottle from my back pocket and placed it in a large sack of food I was also carrying in my arms.
I rounded the corner onto Gallia Street, and saw a movie theater on my left. I looked at the marquis, thinking I might go in. The only problem was the food I had – I didn't think it was permitted to take it inside. I had some cheetos and pretzels in the sack. I walked on down the street, pulled out a long straight pretzel and began eating it.
I quickly reached the second movie theater on Gallia Street. I had thought it had been closed down. I wondered what it would be like inside if it had been empty for years.
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