Missing time

The annual St. Patrick's Day parade festivities took place again last Sunday, two days ago. I got to Hurley's at nine am as usual, met some friendly people next to our established seating upstairs and started the day eating and drinking. Suj and Krystal showed up, then Colin, Myriam, Cedric, Chris and Zura herself, which I must say impressed me considering the present company. (For more details and lots of pictures, click here.) Key difference this year: I had my parade beer delivered. Rose and Petunia showed up with a bag o' beer for us.

I rarely actually feel drunk at the actual parade. Rose, Petunia and I went to St-Hubert for lunch and that is, conveniently, when I started to feel more than just a buzz. It was all I could do to keep both my eyes looking in the same direction. It would have been funny, except that Rose doesn't really drink (Friday the 17th being an exception) and that I was in the presence of a six-year-old girl.

The rest of the day was great, as expected. Suj's girlfriend was there, too, as well as her brother. We met more very nice people but unfortunately those among us who should have gotten phone numbers suddenly became lame or too drunk to think properly. It's a shame. But that's nothing compared to what happened to me later.

At or about 8:40 pm, I left Brutopia and called home, telling Rose that I was on my way home. The next two hours are missing from my memory. I didn't get home until 10:40, when I should have been home at 9:15. Here's what I can piece together:

• I passed out fell asleep on the metro. But I would have thought that someone would have woken my up before 10:15 (which is when I was finally roused). This means that I must have got on the metro at Lucien L'Allier, rode to Henri-Bourassa, all the way to Côte-Vertu and then back to Henri-Bourassa before being woken up.
• My headphones are missing.
• The big mystery: my SHIRT is missing. I can't even come close to explaining this.
• Something else that is insignificant is also missing, but I can't remember what it is.

Rose was understandably pissed at me. Not only am I 90 minutes late, but I can't account for my time. I was pretty scared. But somehow she just accepted that I was drunk and passed out on the metro, and that was that. I have to say, that's awfully nice of her.

So now I have to somehow figure out what happened to me and my stuff. I mean, my headphones? My SHIRT?

UPDATE!! I think I remember what happened to my shirt! I was at Hurley's just before leaving to go home. We were sitting right next to a heating element. I must have taken my shirt off then because I remember being frustatingly hot. Thank God that's explained.