That Thanksgiving Sucked.
I drank, and drank, and drank. Eventually I missed marijuana, since it had been my go-to for getting over hangovers. And I missed LSD. So I found Gregg again and he (unofficially, as always) moved back in. I drank and did drugs for the rest of 1988. My family faded into the background again.
When Thanksgiving rolled around, I told my parents I would not be joining them for any festivities. I’d always wanted to have a zero-pressure holiday without any silly turkey dinner, so I told Gregg I wanted to go camping.
I sure did love the idea of camping.
On Wednesday afternoon, I bought a case of beer to chill, and rented a car for $26.50 – a long maroon piece of junk. I still had the Bug, but we wanted something special for the holiday.
Gregg borrowed a tent from one of his brothers and off we went to have our young-and-free Thanksgiving holiday. We took Kitty, the beer, some pot and cat food, and drove to a rustic campground somewhere near Donegal.
Kitty leapt out of the car and raced off into the woods. I hoped she would come back.
We had a tent and a cooler, and enough daylight to make camp. Neither of us had ever set up a tent on our own, and we failed repeatedly in our attempts to make it stand up. We ended with a pile of nylon canvas on the ground, finally falling on top of the pile and staring at the trees through the waning light until it got too cold to lie on the ground anymore.
We climbed in the rental car and smoked a joint and drank beers until we passed out – Gregg in the backseat and me in the front.
I was so focused on remembering a tent, I hadn’t considered blankets. We used our coats – which we had to remove from our body – to cover ourselves. It was tremendously uncomfortable and, in late November, impossible to stay warm. But I was drunk, so I slept.
At some time well past midnight – BOOM! – something fiercely loud awakened me.
I leapt up with a start and there was Kitty on the hood of the car, mewing loud enough that I opened the door. I thought she’d jump in, but she stayed on the hood. So I stepped out, half-frozen, to cuddle her – and she leapt off the car and ran into the woods.
I hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight, so I just watched her disappear into the dark. Then I crawled back into the car and slept – until Kitty landed on the hood again. And again. And again. All night long, Kitty woke me from a dead sleep by jumping on the car, running away when I reached for her – such a fun game.
When the sun came up, Kitty was nowhere to be found. We slept until at least noon. I headed for the woods to look for her while Gregg rolled up the tent pile. I took two steps into the woods and Kitty appeared, then happily hopped into the car.
For Thanksgiving, we gave Kitty Fancy Feast turkey dinner.
We decided to get our Thanksgiving meal at a diner but – surprise! – the diner was closed on Thanksgiving Day. In fact, every restaurant we passed all the way home was closed. We couldn’t even buy more beer.
Somehow we hadn’t anticipated this.
We were starving, hungover, and utterly exhausted. We ended up eating peanut butter and jelly. Then we got high, passed out and slept until the next day.
That Thanksgiving sucked.