Karma. You get what you deserve. What comes around goes around. Is Karma for real? I’ve spent years paying for a past mistake. A mistake so reprehensible that I’m a believer. Do the karmic ramifications make up for the misdeed? Not sure. I just hope my debt is paid. Because seriously, this is getting ridiculous.
Right after college, I drank all the time. No matter who you are, when you drink too much, we all have one thing in common: pee. There is nothing like peeing when you’re drunk. Such a release. And it was pee that got me in trouble.
It’s the same old story with a twist You’re out with friends. You run into a friend of a friend of a friend who happens to be cute. Everybody is drinking. The cuteguy becomes cuter. You drink more. He gets funny. Another cocktail. You get horny. A fun one night stand. Morning comes quick. You wake up, and here’s the twist, in your own urine.
What? Help! I know! I can’t believe that’s now in print. But yes, I woke up and realized that not only did I just sleep with a semi-cute guy, but at some point I used his bed as a toilet. He was still sleeping next to me, and I tried to think of a way it could’ve been him but knew it wasn’t.
Is this really my life? I can just hear him talking to his friends, “it was a fun hook up until she took a whiz in my bed.” I shuddered the thought.
Slowly, I slipped out of his bed. Like a ghost. I was barely breathing while willing him to stay asleep. I grabbed my stuff and practically got dressed in the hallway. Fleeing the scene of the crime as fast as was humanly possible, I went home, changed and went to work late. No more tequila shots ever again.
A few days later I’m off from work. Nothing better. Until I had a and run in with Old John. He’s this angry guy who lives in my building. The quintessential, furious, old New Yorker.
He was by the elevator waiting to go up to his apartment, but when he heard me coming down the stairs he backed up his walker and screamed, “Who’s there?” Causing him to fall.
“Help! Help!” he screamed out. He was crumpled on the floor like a bag of laundry. I tried to help him up, but it was impossible. Dead weight. I wanted to help Old John back up to his apartment, but what if he was really hurt? I had an idea.
I told Old John to stay where he was. Like he had a choice. I ran up to my apartment. I called an ambulance, and then I grabbed my chair from my desk. I brought the chair down to where he was and put Old John in it.
He loved the chair. He said, “This is a nice chair.” And it was. It was one of those ergonomic, super comfortable, molds to your body, adjustable height type of chairs. It was fantastic. A great chair. Love the chair.
I told Old John about the ambulance coming and explained why it was important. Shockingly, he understood. I could’ve told him anything, as long as he was sitting in that chair, he was fine.
The paramedics arrived, and I hear this word. A word you don’t want to hear when someone is sitting in your amazingly awesome, ergonomic chair. Incontinence. I pull one of the paramedics over to the side, and he confirms that Old John just peed on my chair.
Karma had just bitch slapped me. Hard. I guess I deserved to loose that chair. I rolled it out to the curb. But who knew she was just getting started.
TO BE CONTINUED...