The Girl Who Ran Away.

My last blog post ended on something of a cliffhanger...

I, tired of the people around me thinking there was nothing left for me in life other than knitting myself into the grave, had decided to get drunk, and, to use the phrase I myself used that evening, 'just go out and do something stupid'.

Of course to the majority of staff who worked in the hotel it was impossible to believe that I had ever been 18, had ever got up to any of the things they did, could ever have got as drunk, been as silly, stayed out all night, been as inappropriate, woken up in places that weren't my own bed etc etc when in fact I had, and indeed more so because I, unlike them, had also been 19, 20 and 21, and had been these ages at university, the best three years of my life.

So anyway. The only person who I thought I could  go out and get drunk with, who would not either run away and hide from the prospect of spending an evening outside of work with me, make me feel old or judge me at all was AJ.

There was one problem.

It was a Thursday (Thursday 10th January, in fact, as I have just now worked out) . Thursdays were not good days for the kitchen staff. Thursdays were the day after Wednesdays and Wednesdays were the kitchen's day off. Wednesdays for the chefs were all about waking up hungover from Tuesday night, having several beers, skiing and then having a lot more beers and ending the evening with a burger and passing out with all their clothes on (waking up with their ski boots still on was proof to them that they had had a really good day off). So Thursday was hangover day. Thursday was the day that they looked like death, worked really slowly, had to have a mid day nap and were really rude to everybody. Thursday was not a going out drinking day, Thursday was an 'if I even look at alcohol I will be sick' day. So when I initially broached the subject of going out after work with AJ I was met with a negative reaction. I however was on a mission and persevered, begged, pleaded and demanded until he (surprisingly quickly) agreed to come up when he had finished work and bring some orange juice and some very classy plastic cups so we could indulge in some of the duty free vodka that my mother had brought over when she had visited the previous week, before going out into town (therefore what happened next was actually my mum's fault).

GOOD PLAN I thought.

Promptly there was a knock on my door and export strength blue label Smirnoff Vodka was liberally poured into two glasses and we got talking. We then managed to miss the bus so poured another few vodkas to pass the time till the next one. It was only when we finally got on the bus that it dawned on me that I was actually very drunk. And this only dawned on me when I realised I had been talking absolute crap  bus to the unfortunate bar supervisor and her unsuspecting boyfriend who had also got on the bus to go home. What I was talking about for quite some while was how I was sick of being good all the time, how I wanted to do something crazy that no one would expect and shake things up a bit (last time I felt like that I got my nipple pierced). However I had not decided what this crazy thing was that I was going to do (thank God there are not piercing shops / tattoo parlours in Meribel)

When AJ and myself got off the bus it took me a few seconds to realised we were actually holding hands. I was quite shocked by this sudden and unexpected turn of events but actually found it quite pleasant.

Upon approaching the bar I decided that the first round was on me and as that I had probably had too much to drink I would order very sensible diet coke for me and a pint for AJ. After placing the order I realised that I did not feel very well so thrust the money into AJ's hand and walked quickly and purposefully towards the bathroom where I closed the door and was promptly sick in the toilet.

I composed myself for a few minutes and exited the bathroom to find AJ waiting patiently for me, taking the first few sips of his pint.
'Right I'm going home' I said
'Err what' he said in surprise.
I didn't answer I just put down the untouched diet coke he had handed me and headed to the door.

Now I am quite a determined drunk. When I decided it is time to go home I go home, there is no stopping me and I am perfectly happy to run away if it means I get to go to bed quicker. And when I get that drunk all I want to do is go to bed. In fact that night I was so determined that it was time for me to go to sleep that I strode away so fast that I was half way up the road before AJ had processed the information that I was leaving, decided that he should really follow me, taken one last mouthful of his beer, put it down mournfully and run on out after me.

My resolve to walk home was quickly replaced by the idea (encouraged by AJ) that we should probably get a taxi , and as it was still so early in the night there were plenty lined up ready to take us home. I can't say I remember a huge amount about that trip but I can remember jumping out of the taxi and running up the stairs to the hotel and into the lift without even looking back, wondering slightly if I was going to be followed before deciding that I should probably spend a few minutes sitting on the bathroom floor to see if I was going to be sick again. What seemed like quite a while later, but was actually only a couple of minutes AJ appeared in the doorway to my bathroom, looking quite worried to see me sat on the floor, when he hauled me up and put me to bed. The last thing I remember was pulling his arm around me before I passed out.

I was woken up some while later by the strangest sensation and it quickly dawned on me what it was, every two minutes or so the back of my neck was being kissed. Now I lay there for a good few minuets, not quite sure what I should do. The total and utter drunken cloud that had earlier descended on me was starting to lift and yet I could not figure out what my next move should be, I had had slight suspicions that a crush had been forming since the first week on the season when he had presented me with five slices of lemon tart on a plate, saying that he knew it was my favourite, but I hadn't really thought anything about it since. A few minutes later I just thought, 'why am I thinking so hard about this?? What the hell'. However I did decided that it would be best if we kept it secret and he agreed.

'So.. this is just between me and you right?' became my famous last words.