Deleted Scenes - A Rude Awakening

My mom didn’t want to let me go out on the boat right away. It took a lot for her to realize that I just wasn’t doing that good where we were. She grounded me the first time she picked me up from the police station. It happened in the middle of July and I was grounded until October – that should give you some idea as to how bad it was.

I showed up to the party on Friday night – some rager that a kid from Laguna Hills threw. I avoided the pot, the speed, the coke, the pills and the horse. That left booze – lots and lots of it. I woke up the next morning lying on a cheap mattress covered in thick green plastic. My mouth tasted sour from the puke. I was in the Malibu Beach drunk tank; one of a dozen others that were bused in from the overflow after the cops raided the party.

I lay there on the mattress, unable to believe that I’d blacked out. Sure, I’d been drinking with my friends for almost a year, but this was entirely different. It was like a light switch had been thrown around two in the morning and now it was around noon – the lights went out, the film changed over and the audience had no idea it happened. I rinsed my mouth out with water from the sink, careful not to swallow. Other than four other guys my age, we had a white homeless guy who was about a week behind on his meds. He talked endlessly to an ancient coin of dried gum on the floor.

Getting drunk and ending up in the drunk tank was bad enough. As my head was pounding from the hangover, a deputy informed me that I was going to submit my blood to rule me out as a suspect in the sexual assault that had taken place at the same party.

The exchange that next took place would probably have gotten any civil rights lawyer salivating at such an easy case. I refused, asking for my phone call. The deputy shrugged and went away. He returned a few minutes later with four others. One had exam gloves on and a med-pack. The deputy opened the door and motioned me out to the hall. I walked out and was bodily forced to the floor.