13

40% Green Bottle

There was always a choice, most of the time, the wrong ones would be my mistake. For
some reason I always needed some sort of thrill. As exciting as sitting alone in my living room
was. All that was going on was what was happening outside, which would be the sounds of
passing cars, kids screaming and people yelling. I had to have some sort of enjoyment. And
lately, I wish it was something more positive, more constructive, but one has to stumble a few
times before learning how to walk. I wanted to drink, I wanted to drink a lot and stumble.
The night was boring and dull. It was a few days away from Halloween, and I recently
moved to the city of Los Angeles about a month ago or so. I didn't know that many people, only
those from work. I worked part time at a restaurant, serving tables and occasionally bussing
whenever money was scarce. I moved to the city to follow my passion, to write short stories and
novels. I had a dream. A dream to get published. But lately, the strive to do anything was too
difficult and tedious. The city and its rules have that affect on people. I didn't really live in the
best neighborhood either. How could one really know where he is when it's his first time there.
For some reason there was always this bizarre stench in the night air of Mid city. It was
unbearable and perilous. Homelessness, trash, sewage, burnt rubber, puke, smoke, smog it was
too much to breath and at the same time the toxic air would already be flowing through the body.
But rent was cheap. People walked with grocery carts filled with laundry, trash, and aluminum
cans. There were also the cracked out people standing at the street corners yelling at the top of

their lungs, sometimes they'd be one in the same. I don't want to get too much into why this place
was a shit hole. Yes, it does seem to have its moments, but most of them are appalling when the
sun has set.
A decision had to be made, for once. I could just sit here and listen to the terrible noise
that leached its way in through my thin glassed windows. Or, I could get the hell out of my little
box of comfort and roll the dice, and see what would happen. I still needed a drink, I got up and
walked to the fridge. Only condiments, water, and molded cheese. No beer. I've made my choice.
I close the fridge. I look at clock, 10:26 pm.
"Shit." I sigh at the clock.
In a alarming area like this, it's almost impossible to find a liquor store open passed 11.
The streets of La Brea seemed to never die out, no matter how late it was. There were always
mad drivers on the road, honking their horns whenever they got the chance. Like an impatient
little kid being told to stand still by their parents, they were always upset and angry. I was
wandering the night away, lost, disorderly and wild. There really was no goal, only to find the
nearest store that sold cheap booze. And trust me, when you're in a place like this, it's a lot
tougher than you may think. Gang bangers, sketchy and degenerate people roam the streets, so
the stores tend to not stay open as late as others.
I was a bit frightened, but more so curious. "Shit happens" they say, sometimes we have
control, and other times we unknowingly lose our grasp on that control, especially when we try
to have too much of it. A strange paradox, but thats all it seems to be sometimes, everything has
a contradiction in itself. Yin and Yang. We lose bits and pieces of reality, slowly but surely we
stray from the path of morality and righteousness, as it if it were someone else's fault rather than
our own. I suppose that's the story one must tell, to go beyond themselves, travel uncharted land,

stepping outside the comforts of one's life, taking chance's, going through hell, only to return,
either changed for the better or the worse.
Walking the street of La Brea, oh the desolate view of it all. I couldn't help but feel just as
lost as the people who had to live in the streets.
"What the fuck am doing?" I begin to start a chatter in my head.
"And what do I want to drink?", I tell myself shortly after.
I arrive at the bus stop on the corner of La Brea and Rodeo, I didn't want to walk the extra
mile through hell, but waiting at the bus stop in itself was hell, even riding the bus was hell. Plus
the store would be closed by the time I walked there, might as well take the bus. At the bus stop
there was only one homeless lady layered in jackets with a filthy blanket covering her, while she
held the bible. She was looking at the smog infested night sky that showed no stars, talking to
herself or someone else.
"What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?"
she says looking up.
I'm not quite sure what to believe or think at this moment, everything was so surreal, it
seemed you'd only see the dismal, gloomy side of people in movies and magazines, but it was
real. Then again what did I know? It was all a movie playing right in front of me, a visceral
experience, you seemed to lose yourself in it, not really knowing what the hell other people were
going through, it was a sickness. Yet again, the same thing was leisurely happening to me.
I moved to the city to get away from everything that bothered me. Family, disloyal
people who displayed themselves as friends, even the money, there wasn't enough of it. It was
simply letting go of everything I found comfort in. Maybe the city wasn't the smartest choice, I
was eluded by the fame and fortune displayed in movies and magazines. It wasn't that. Usually

the rich and famous were assholes, especially when you were nice. Family is where the heart is,
truly. But sometimes the heart can only handle so much. Heartache, lies, failure, uncertainty, all
these feelings lead me here, alone, waiting for the bus with someone who may have lost their
mind, or maybe followed similar aspirations.
"Why did I choose here, this city?" I asked myself at the bus stop, as I sat next to a lady
talking to herself as she was repeating scriptures of the holy book.
The things I seem to be running away from were all catching up to me faster and faster.
Observing this lady, gave me a clearer picture of what could happen. The bus arrives, I get on
and pay my fair, the lady at the bus stop stays seated and continues to talk to herself or God.
What did I know? The bus driver wearing the dark grey metro uniform seems not to care, for his
shift is only a few hours away till he can go home and sleep, he yawned every minute during that
bus ride. The bus only ran only a few more rounds on this street when it was this late. I get on the
desolate bus with a one way trip to hell. I look around and try to find a place to sit. Everyone on
that bus looks tired and miserable. I don't want to pay too much attention to them. I decide to sit
in the front near the door, so I could reach the exit faster.
I sit and look straight ahead. There in plain sight a young lady. I found my place, and
tonight seems to be alright. All I'm thinking about now as I sat across a girl, who had dark brown
hair and deep blue eyes, was the beauty she seemed to encompass. She seemed to be the kind of
gal that destroyed hearts and had a liking to it. She knew she was beautiful. It only takes one
look from a beautiful girl, if she glances at you for a seconds and smiles, it feels like luck. Now
I'm glad I got out of the house. She looked to be the same age as me, early 20's. She wore a grey
sweater, with large red letters spelling USC. I just hoped that, while on this shitty bus ride, if
there was by some chance, a miracle, of at least having whatever time I had on the bus with

someone who appeared normal. To talk about basically anything rather than the dreadfulness of
one's life.
She's the only bright thing about the night. We make brief eye contact, feeling a bit on
edge and mercurial, I quickly look away, as did she. With a slight smile I looked back again,
trying to be discreet, she does the same. Making eye contact for a little longer, the night doesn't
seem too dire. All I want now is to spark a conversation. Suddenly an arm reaches over her
shoulders, not knowing that someone was sitting next to her the entire time, maybe because I
didn't care or I unintentionally blocked out any peripheral imagery. Like the flame of a candle in
a dark room, she was gently blown out. Now back to reality. The guy and I now make eye
contact. He gives me a cold stare. One a prowler would give its innocent prey.
"Aye, what you staring at?"
I look at him, then at her, now both as a whole. She stares at me now with a slight grin.
For some reason, I begin to chuckle. I kind of feel bad at the moment. I wouldn't want to be in
that guys position. It was truly beauty and the animal. I say nothing.
"Yeah. That's what I fucking thought" he says smugly.
I just sat there quietly, as much as I was scared, I was more so angry. I just want a drink. I
look out the window and slightly smile. The couple looks at each other with puppy eyes.
"Now arriving at La Brea and Adams" the bus tracker says slowly.
I pull the bus cable that lets the driver know where to stop. Now I'm not too worried
anymore about starting any conversation. Now it's just about getting to the liquor store. The bus
slows down at the corner. The couple across start to giggle. I get off the bus. That was that. I
walk a few blocks down Adams St., in the distance a large yellow sign labeled "Holiday's
Liquor" is all that's visible in the smog infested night of Mid City. A warm sensation runs

through my body, like a kid getting a birthday present or even better when whiskey has ran
streamed down to your stomach. As I entered the convenient store, I looked across and see the
fridge full of alcohol. It was paradise at that moment, so I decided to just pick up a 6 pack of the
cheapest beer. I figured why not, it'd do the job.
"That's going to be 7 even boss and I'm going to need to see some I.D." said the store
clerk.
I got asked that quite often, I think by the time I reach age 50 people will stop hollering
about my I.D. I was a young looking fellow, I was 23 and didn't even look 21. I pull out a 10
from my wallet as well as my I.D. He hands me my change.
"Alright, 1, 2 and 3" the clerk counts back.
"Appreciate it", I say.
"Stay safe out there" I hear the clerk say as I walked out the store. I say nothing.
Now all I have was 23 dollars to my name. I figured I'd walk home after just to save an
extra dollar. Again I figured why not, as long as I'd have a few drinks in my system. I start a
journey home at 10:55 pm in Los Angeles. Cars seem to never stop passing in the streets. I open
a bottle of beer and drink it like water. The night was as cold as it could get in Southern
California, 65 degrees. Another reason why anyone moves here. People go into a sort of hypnotic
trance from the perfect weather, it always seems to be summer here. Always a good time to wear
shorts and bright colors. But I walk the night in a dark grey hoodie and black jeans. Walking
tends to have a huge impact on people's thought process, it gives us time away from the norm,
experiencing a moment of clarity. To analyze our thoughts and emotions. But it's hard to do that
when you're catching a good buzz. It's just you and the moment. Even if it's in one of the shittiest
parts of LA, where bums, crack-heads, and drunks fill the streets, it seems to give you time away

from it all and to paint a clearer picture. Like reaching for some sort of enlightenment, and enter
a state of Zen.
I finish my first beer, so I decide to open up another one. Now I'm beginning to feel a bit
more adventurous. The alcohol has entered my bloodstream and like a puppet master and it's
puppet, my strings are now being controlled. Down the street there's a little bar where indiebands occasionally play. Luckily tonight is one of those nights. As I pass the bar, I can hear the
strumming of the guitar and beatings of the drum play out to some semi-rhythmic flow. So I
decide I'd have another beer and enjoy the night, even if it's in not so great of an area. Music and
melody have that effect on me.
The city has a strange modus operandi. There's always a popular location within a lousy
run down area. Anyways, this was one of those places. Who would of known, there'd be so many
fucking college kids here enjoying their night and the music that came along with it. Cool kids
litter the sidewalks outside the bar smoking American Spirits, I walk up and ask a kid who knew
how to dress. The hair, vest, tie, tie pin, and a leather belt, everything matched.
"Hey man, don't mean to be a bother. But do you think I could buy a stick off you?" I
said, as I walked up with a pack of beer in my hand. Ready to reach in my pocket and fetch
whatever chump change I had in my pockets.
"Buy? Nah man. How about I trade you for a beer?" he said.
Holding the beer in my hand, I felt generous and plus I really wanted a cigarette.
"Sure why not", I said as I pulled a bottle from my pack and then handed to him.
"Here man, here's three sticks" he said, as he too was feeling drunk and generous. "Ah
thanks " I said.

I pull a lighter from my pocket, light the cigarette. The noxious smoke enters my lungs
and it feels good.
"You guys enjoying the night?" I say.
"Yeah, made it out to support my bro's band. I think they might be coming on after these
guys." He says.
"Cool, well I might just check it out" I say.
But the thought of only having a few dollars to my name, was not a idea I thought would
be responsible.
"Thanks" I say to the guys.
I walk a little ways down from the bar and as I light my cigarette, I want something else
to happen tonight I tell myself. I want some sort of enjoyment, an experience other than the
norm, a moment I will always remember. I don't want to go home and drink by myself. But then
again I need that extra 20 bucks for food. I open another bottle and drink it all at that moment,
ignoring all the chatter going through my head. With only two beers remaining, I made my
decision. Stashing what beer I had left in the alley next to the bar, I finish my cigarette, getting
rid of any odor of alcohol from my breath and clothes. I walk up to the entrance of the bar.
"How's it going chief? Need to see your I.D" the bouncer at the front says, looking at me
kind of funny and suspicious.
I think he knew I already caught a good buzz. I didn't seem to mind much. I reached in
my back pocket to pull out my worn out and tattered leather wallet, with the threads almost
spent. I give it to the man and all I can think to myself in this semi euphoric state is,
"What next?".
The bouncer, looking at my I.D. looks back at me, then back at the I.D.

"Alright, you're good."

"Thanks." I say.
I drop my I.D. on the floor like some klutz, the bouncer doesn't take his eyes off me. I
don't care, and seem to not pay too much attention. I enter the bar, there the energy is too much
to handle, something begins to happen to my body. The loud music of the band, the movement of
the drunks on the dance floor. I walk up to the dimly lit bar, standing there for a moment the
bartender nods.
"What will it be my man?" He says.
"A shot of Jameson and ginger" I say.
"You got it".
He grabs the green bottle, and there's just enough in the bottle to fill the shot glass.
"Looks like there's just enough, huh boss?"
" It might be fate." I say.
He places it gently in front of me, alongside a glass of ginger ale. I can feel the butterflies
in my stomach as my eyes came in contact with the dark colored whiskey.
"Cheers" I say as I hold up the shot.
I quickly shoot it. The burning sensation rushes down into my stomach, now the
butterflies have released themselves making my stomach even warmer. I slam the shot glass
down.
"Whoo." I bellow, as the whiskey burns my insides.
"Good stuff huh?" said the bartender. "Another?" He said shortly after.
I think to myself for a moment, "I really shouldn't". A second later "Fuck it. The night is
young, why not?", a quiet thought rushes its way into my head.

The Bartender grabs my shot glass.

"You're god damned right, another", I hiccup after.
He opens a fresh green bottle. He pours another drink. I look at the shot for a moment.
The music gets louder, the people get crazier. I hold my hands around the shot glass. For a
moment, it's just that. I shoot it down. Again the liquid fire rushes its way into my system.
Now the night starts