Chapter One: Jonathan

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“Your attention please.  This is the final boarding call for Northwest Airlines flight 1521 with non-stop service to Detroit.  All ticketed and confirmed passengers should report to Gate 27 for boarding at this time.  Once again, final boarding call, Northwest Airlines flight 1521.”  Taking the intercom as his signal, Jonathan knocked back the last part of his Sapphire tonic before setting his glass back onto the counter.  Laying down a generous $15 tip for his bartender, Allan, he thought of how lucky he had been to find his gate of departure directly across from the terminal’s sports bar.  Although Jonathan flew often, he still faced the same apprehension every time he took a trip. Nothing a drink or four couldn’t calm, though.

By the time he approached the ticketing flight attendant, there were no more passengers waiting to board his flight.  Making eye contact with the impatient-looking (and in Jonathan’s opinion) overly flamboyant flight attendant, he extended his ticket-holding right hand toward the podium.  “Thank you, sir.  Have a safe flight,” the attendant said as he scanned the ticket, flashing Jonathan a fake, forced smile.  Not taking the time to reply, Jonathan entered the air bridge, ready to finally leave New York.

Once he was on board the actual plane, Jonathan had no problem finding his seat.  Seat 1B, first class, aisle, at the very front “bulkhead” of the plane.  “Care for anything to drink before takeoff?” a skinny, leggy, blonde flight attendant asked.  Another drink couldn’t hurt, he thought, asking her for a gin and tonic (his fifth already that day).  The overly-perfumed and perfectly coiffed housewife-type seated next to him made eye contact as he took his seat.  “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?”  she challenged in her thick Long Island accent.  “Don’t worry, I’m 21” Jonathan answered, trying not to look overly-annoyed.  Zoning out his surroundings, Jonathan half-listened as the woman introduced herself.  He hoped she would stop talking.  But of course, she didn’t.  

As the woman continued rambling, first about the flight, and then about the daughter she was visiting in Ann Arbor, Jonathan was thankful for the small oval pill he had stowed in his pocket.  The blonde flight attendant returned, his clear, lime-adorned drink in hand.  Jonathan reached for it immediately.  Slipping his Xanax onto his tongue, Jonathan lifted the small, plastic-cupped beverage to his lips, finishing it all in one gulp.  The woman beside him offered one last disapproving before averting her attention to this month’s issue of Elle magazine.  Goal accomplished, Jonathan thought.  He closed his eyes, allowing his head to sink backwards into the seat.  By takeoff, he was fast asleep.

An hour and change later, Jonathan’s flight began its final descent into Detroit Metropolitan Airport.  When the plane finally landed, Jonathan unbuckled his seatbelt groggily, making a hasty exit toward the forward door.  After collecting his luggage, he made his way to the terminal curb to meet his ride.  Jonathan’s new housemates Alex, Dave, Nick, and Zeke were parked next to the first set of exit doors in Alex’s gold Benz, waiting. As soon as Jonathan loaded his luggage into the trunk, they were on their way down I-94 to Ann Arbor.

The whole way home, Jonathan had one goal on his mind: to get as drunk as possible, as quickly as possible, and to stay that way for the entire week.  It was welcome week, after all.  Setting his bags down in his disturbingly empty room, Jonathan decided that he wouldn’t even bother to unpack his trunk.  He had no bed yet and would probably just spend his first night on the living room couch anyway.  Already dressed for the night and ready to go, he grabbed his credit card and ID, ready for a trip to Campus Corner.  His roommates had already bought beer, but he knew that they would run out soon, and didn’t mind going to pick up more.

Joe and Gus, the proud owners of Jonathan’s favorite liquor store, smiled in recognition as Jonathan entered their store.  “How was summer, Jon?  You just get back?”  Joe asked, his voice steady and slow, highlighting his Russian accent.  Jonathan explained that his flight had landed just under an hour before.  Taking a case of Natty Light to the counter, he was unsurprised when Joe’s brother Gus looked at him and said, “No charge.  It is housewarming gift.”  They were always giving him free drinks.

Back at the house, Jon his case of beer down on the porch,  seating himself at the top of the steps.  A beer in his left hand, he occupied his right by BBMing on his Blackberry Curve, a birthday gift from his mom and dad. “What’re you up to tonight?” He sent the message to one recipient, then seven more, then twenty. Jonathan was amazed at how much conversation such a short text could start.  “Are you in Ann Arbor?” “Not sure. You?”  “Going out!  Want to pregame before Skeeps?”  The various responses flooded his phone.  Taking another sip of his Natty Light, Jonathan set his phone down, freeing his hand for a second beer.  It was rage time.

Inside the house, Jonathan’s housemates stared at one another from across a table, engaged in a never-ending game of beer pong.  “Same game, still?  What the hell is taking so long?” Jonathan asked as he stared at the four of them impatiently.  “Chill out, dude, we’re almost done,” Jonathan’s youngest housemate, Nick, replied.  As he finished talking, Nick curled his right arm backwards towards his face, holding the beer pong ball close to the side of his nose.  Concentrating on the single red solo cup on the other side of the table, Nick moved his hand back and forth, steadying his aim.  “Just shoot the fucking ball, Nick!” Jonathan’s other housemate, Zeke, yelled.  Feeling pressured , Nick finally allowed the ball to leave his hands.  “Nice!” Alex, Nick’s teammate, congratulated Nick as the ball fell smoothly into the cup.  “Finally!” Jonathan exclaimed.  Taking his place next to Dave as Zeke’s replacement, Jonathan was ready for his inaugural beer pong game of the school year.  As he straightened the cups, he likened himself to an athlete preparing for a game.  It was his time.

By midnight, Jonathan could barely walk straight.  He and his housemates had made their way to Rick’s a few hours before, already well on their way to drunkenness. Ten rounds of shots and countless beers later, they were past the point of no return.  “Hey Jonny, we should probably get you home,” his housemate Dave said, placing a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder.  Around them, crowds of their fellow college students gathered, enjoying various stages of inebriation.  Jonathan looked back at Dave and laughed.  “You know I’m not ready to leave.  This night is just getting started.”  Offering Jonathan another beer, Dave couldn’t help but grin. It was nearing 1:45 a.m., another fifteen minutes of drinking couldn’t hurt.

The next morning Jonathan woke up on his living room couch, suddenly remembering he needed to go bed shopping later that day.  Head aching, mouth dry and thirsty, he knew he had a good night.  And although he had no memory of ever leaving Rick’s, or even of laying down on the couch, he knew he wanted to do it all over again.  Walking into the kitchen, he opened his refrigerator and grabbed a nice, cold beer.  It may have been 11 a.m., but that only left 11 hours to enjoy day drinking.  Rage time.