When we got up, we realized something wasn’t right. It was pitch black in the apartment, but it was only 10 am. I stood in the midst of a heap of drugged bodies, wiped tobacco off of my jacket, lit a cigarette, and paced the room internally.
We gotta get out of here, man.
I was just thinkin’ that, bro. This isn’t right. I can’t live like this.
Me neither. I’m going back to Idaho.
We left the apartment, got breakfast, and headed uptown on the bronx bound 6. At 125th street, we parted ways.
E and I decided to head back to our respective homes, where we knew we’d be able to get our heads on straight. After seeing the casualties of unhinged hedonism, we saw what we had become. What started off as a foray into NYC nightlife became a tiresome cat and mouse game with satisfaction. Between my present state and satisfaction there existed a halfway point, but between my present state and the halfway point there was another halfway point, and so on and so on and so on…
E gathered up the cash to back home. I scrounged up a hundred bucks and got on the first greyhound bus back to Idaho. I was resolved to quit cocaine, partying, being a deadbeat dad, and being an adulterer. I knew my wife and son loved me, so I headed back home in the hopes of finding the satisfaction I knew NYC would never give me.