I Make Bad Decisions

I make bad decisions.

For example, after drinking quite a bit at a wedding reception in the French Quarter, I kept on drinking. Up and down Bourbon Street I went with my then-girlfriend. I watched a street artist who was incredible, then watched some other guy plop what I thought was an insulting number of coins into the street artist’s cup.bad-decision

I said, a bit too loudly, “Nice fuckin’ nickel, asshole.”

That was a bad decision.

And I was wearing a fancy black suit with a bright blue tie. The other guy was wearing baggy shorts and a t-shirt. An outfit better to fight in, you see.

For better or worse, we did not fight.

Soon after, I decided it would be best to get back to the hotel. I suggested to my then-girlfriend that we take the bus. I suggested this because a bus stop was nearby and a bus was pulling up.

About twenty minutes into the bus ride, I sobered up enough to realize that I didn’t know what bus we were on. Or where it was going. Or where in New Orleans we were. I looked around at the other people on the bus and noted that none of the other men were wearing a suit, and none of the other then-girlfriends were wearing a fancy turquoise number.

I decided it would be a good idea to get off the bus.

That was another bad decision.

Because after having gotten on a random bus, which had taken us to a random place in an unfamiliar city, really the next worse thing I could do would be to just get off at a random place. In an unfamiliar city.

Do you see how this was a yet another bad decision?

Here’s why I thought it might be a good idea to get off the bus: I thought I could flag a taxi.

That logic hinged upon the random chance of a taxi happening by.

Guess what?

One did.

I opened the door and put my then-girlfriend inside. One of us must have been able to remember the name of the hotel. Because we did get back to it.

And we did have a good time when we got back there.

When I sat down to write this, I didn’t mean to write about this. I meant to write about my drive through Chicago’s South Side the other day. This was supposed to be the intro. I guess the Chicago thing will have to wait.


featured image: ftca.uno.edu

11 thoughts on “I Make Bad Decisions

  1. Yes. Writing about embarrassing moments always seems to trump everything else (sad, but true). And, yes, I have vowed a million times I’ll never make ANY decisions after having had too much to drink. Like last night. Found a full chicken roaster in the fridge this morning. Whole Foods was on the way home from all my fun. At least I took a cab. Or did I?


  2. I like your writing style.. Rather, I tolerate it and treat it like an archaeologist treats sand in his/her eyes, insect stings.. A symphony of discomforts that somehow becomes.. very likable for reasons that can’t be pinned down. It’s off-beat, maybe not on purpose. And interesting and humorous maybe not on purpose. I dig you, man!


  3. Pingback: Dusting off ancient bits of writing vs. Gloving up again. | waltbox

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