I am slowly recovering, having landed in Hyderabad this morning, from last night’s party above.
Now you might wonder, what is an ‘H’?
And it’s a good question.
A very good question.
A question with many, many answers.
Confusing answers, long and rambling pointless answers.
Answering such a question deserves an entire post of its own.
Suffice to say a ‘H.’ consists of many strange things.
There are big Hs, regular Hs and little Hs (Much like Goldilocks’s bears). Then there is alternative H or, as we like to call him, just Captain H.
It is a weird and wonderful thing when you see all the Hs congregating in one single place. There were even the H extensions, the Ns and the Ms.
By midnight 2 out of the 3 more youthful Hs were completely smashed on the bartenders exotic creations, (one of which was a strawberry flavoured, frothy vanilla ice cream margarita. That genius man!)
I almost had an entire proper conversation with regular H. while he was still on his second or third drink but after that it all deteriorated rapidly.
You can immediately tell when an H is high.
Stage 0: Before 2-4 drinks, mostly sober
Stage 1: The arm slips around your shoulder and he suddenly gets very limber
Stage 2: The arm tightens around you, he starts to bends down a little (being a tall guy) and whispers confidentially in your ear.
Stage 3: Lots of bending and hugging, the whispering confidentially in your ear continues but less coherently.
Stage 4: Bending, slurring, incoherence, some obnoxiousness and general idiocy.
Stage 5: Standing and sleeping. Obliviousness to all surroundings.
Stage 6: Sleeping. Anywhere. In any place.
Any kind of sane conversation after Stage 2 and Stage 3 of High H. is impossible. Even little H. gets fiery and crazy after a few drinks.
During Stage 0 (Pre-drunken state) H interrogated me vigorously on that stupid DNA article I wrote (long story) that caused no end of trouble (and is still causing me just a bit of tension).
Instead of actually allowing me to finish my sentences and tell him what happened, the H. told me exactly what he knew happened and vociferously tried to push me into agreeing with his own little version of events.
Somehow during Stage 3-4 of H. drunkenness, little H. picked a massive fight with someone who had picked a fight with alternative H. a year ago.
Later at Stage 3 or 4 (the limber, bending stage) regular H. became unusually odd, at one point putting his arm around me and bending his head down, all the way down to my waist (H is a very tall man, but I was a little puzzled when he did this).
Later he put his arm around me again, tilted his head back and proceeded to slowly show me his tongue.
Sometime during Stage 4 he said
“Don’t hue get all cocky and shhhhhit with me. Hey! Are you like being cocky with me?”
I jusht want to make one shimple requesh ok…just one shimple requesh…listen man…it’s just..a simple..request….listen…I jusht wanna tell you…”
He went on like this for about 5 minutes after which he shoved me quite hard in the ribs. I never found out what that simple request was because by now I was pretty annoyed. I told him not to touch me again and then moved away.
Aside from that it was a great party. The cake was moist, the bartender unusually talented and most of our age group of girls and boys were both well dressed and hot.
Mane dropped me and Riddhi home by about 3 in the morning, after a quickie smoke in his car.
Those delightful red shoes I went on and on about (and here too) finally made it out for their first test drive and they were EXCRUCIATING!!! I have developed beautiful blisters on the back on my ankles now. Dammit all!
But on the positive side, they looked fucking fabulous. (I’m so shallow)