Eric’s an excellent assistant. He’s also the vessel for a plethora of bizarre behavior and copious drug intake, seasonal. He’ll troubleshoot a difficult software issue or suggest an unseen elegance to a persistent problem only to drop the HD camera because he forgets to check the safety lock. Stuff like that. It’s the square one phenomenon. Worktime celebration is a veritable roller coaster but mostly good so we power on together because, well, is none of us perfect. For example, Sterz can barely go a meal without a special request or return of an item or entree. He’s focused on his palette to a degree unmatched in other humans. If the wings are too mild, they go back, if the eggs are dry, the Maitre de is notified, if the drink is sloppy or weak the barkeep is shamed. Also, each and all sauce and spice must be delivered at four to five times the house standard, nay the house maximum, and this is usual practice. It is simply what ought to be expected when dining with the Sterz. So Eric has some wiggle room, plus he’s twenty years younger and a learning curve is applied and tolerated. In this spirit, after the first day’s work we go for drink and end up with a six pack back at the Saratoga Community Court Motel, a real shithole who’s only redeeming quality is location. Eric, however, buys a bottle of cheap whiskey to augment the beers, drinks three quarters of the damn thing by midnight and busts out his cell phone to ‘make some calls’ and text madly. I don’t say a word, just observe and answer questions by raising eyebrows and nodding repeatedly with pursed lips in a gesture of acknowledgment. Like I say, he shoots straight for the most part, even in debauchery. This is a guy who actually made the call before proceeding on his drunkest night ever. It was shortly after my separation when I believed all marital problem shit was going to smooth over with a few prayers to Jesus when I alternatively crashed at his place to avoid the isolation and shame of the cold cushionless studio floor. He was dealing with unruly roommates and various woman problems so we headed to the local hipster dive where he announced, “I’m going to get more drunk than I’ve ever been in my entire life.” “OK,” I reply with the raised eyebrow, pursed lips and a nod. And this he did, downed some six strong long island iced teas and a few shots in record time. I literally had to carry him out of the place due to failed motor capacity and blindness. Once back at the apartment I waited two hours with him in the car for his girl to show up because I feared he would choke on vomit. He survived and I give him credit for calling it. This night, he paced the drinking so I wasn’t too worried about a repeat.
For privacy, Eric heads to the car as not to bother Sterz already lounged out for the night intent on the food network programs. A few hours pass and you can still hear the boy yapping away. No sense to it really, if he was keeping us awake, he was keeping others awake. There was some type of commotion, laughter, broken English being spoken when we hear the car start. “Thank you, Thank you,” Eric says. “Where you from?” “New Jersey, no kiddin’, me too. Way small world, way small world.” It was a classic bit, including the Jersey standard of asking “what exit?” to refer to home or travel and full discussion of traffic and gas prices on the turnpike and/or parkway on the way out of town. So classic in fact that Sterz and I laugh audibly.
A short time later Eric pokes his head in the room. It’s dark except for the pale television flicker. “I’m going to drive around a while to charge up my mom’s battery,” then promptly closes the door without waiting for reply. He had just received a jump from a late arriving traveler which became necessary because he sat talking on his charging cell phone in the car with the parking lights on while listening to the radio for the two hours prior to his announcement. We had driven his car down (which was actually his mother’s car) because it had the necessary room to accommodate three along with equipment and the van was a lot less comfortable. This plan he had for driving around sounded like a bad idea especially since he currently was driving on a suspended license and well beyond the legal alcohol limit AND all the display equipment for the piece was currently in the trunk of the car. Sterz promptly struggled out of bed, swung open the door to a flood of light from the headlamps on his naked body, “I’d prefer if you didn’t drive around. The equipment.” To which Eric responds, “oh yea, that’s right, OK, I’ll just let it run for a while here and hang out here.” And that’s what he did. Sterz and I traded jokes about him getting a DUI right there in the parking lot before nodding off. Hell, with Eric’s frequent lapse of common sense and the clear disturbance already caused we gave it a 50/50 chance he’d be hauled in by morning. I awoke about 4:30AM to the intermittent hum of the cooling fan, got up and turned the car off myself as he slept soundly slouched over the wheel like a slain gangster.
The next morning we swap Eric to a bed, let him sleep it off and return to the installation grounds to inspect the piece for weather damage. If all was well, Eric would be right as rain by show time and even if not, he’s never shirked work for a hangover.
No comments:
Post a Comment