Chimp, Champ, Chump

Well I did several wrong things in a row. I ate a piece of garlic bread and drank some V-8 juice, then tried to go to bed at midnight. Midnight is way too early for a night owl such as myself, but I was trying to be reasonable. It didn’t work out. I went straight to sleep, but woke up about two hours later. The ridiculous snack had turned into a volcanic concoction in my stomach and I was wide-awake. I dream a lot, from beautiful scenes to horrifying episodes. The night before I had dreamed about a gorilla sitting at the end of the road and dancing Chinamen but I think the V-8 woke me up this time.

Anyway, for some reason I started thinking about a New Year’s Eve many years ago when we actually used to go out and celebrate instead of sitting home and watching Dick Clark. I really dislike New Year’s Eve, actually. Jack and I, my sisters and their husbands and some other couples had all paid for one of those package deals: go to a hotel, have a semi-crummy meal, drink too much, and then go pass out in your room. I was particularly irritated because we had all reserved and paid for a big table to bring in the New Year together. My older sister then allowed a whole group of people whom she worked with to move our name tags to another table relegating a few of us to the corner of the room. She sometimes did things like that for the people she worked with and it was very maddening, but I digress.

I decided to go back to the room for something and as I walked down the empty hallway I was surprised to see a chimpanzee walking toward me. I kid you not. This little guy walked right up to me, grabbed my hand, and started to pull me toward a door that was slightly opened. (I guess I could have said “ajar” but that seems sort of pretentious.) Yes, this was a bit forward for a monkey, but I’d had some champagne and I was pretty curious. He led me right into a room where I looked about and yelled, “Hello?” No one answered and he pulled me into the bathroom and pointed to the faucet. I picked up the hotel glass, filled it with water and gave it to the chimp. He drank it all, wanted more; I complied. Then he set the glass down and went and sat on the bed looking at me like, “You can leave now.” I said goodbye, shut the door and left.

Of course, I received nothing but ridicule from the drunken crowd when I returned. I swore that the story was true and even though I’d had my fair share of alcohol, I’ve never hallucinated on the stuff. Nevertheless, words like “crazy” were bandied about.

The next morning as our hung-over group checked out, I enjoyed a brief moment in the sun. It was short lived, however. Walking toward us came a couple holding the hands of my chimp friend from the night before. Everyone’s mouths fell open. But then I had to ruin everything by speaking to the couple. I told them what had happened; but instead of being grateful the woman gave me a cold look and said, “I can’t believe that you would just go into someone’s room like that!” (This from a woman who left a chimp to fend for himself on New Year’s Eve.) To add insult to injury, the chimp acted as though he’d never laid eyes on me.

Strange the things that V-8 juice and garlic toast will make one remember in the middle of the night.