How Many Times Can A Fever Break

Sunday night I woke up on the floor of a bathroom in a Manhattan dive bar. It’s not as desperate as it sounds, really. I mean, I suppose it’s all relative, and I’ve just had lower moments. But, regardless, I now have the H1N1 or a close relative that comes from something less delicious than a pig, and I have spent the past 36 hours in bed. And it got me thinking. Can passing out in the bathroom of a bar give you the swine flu?

The night started around 1 pm after waking up from the Vice 15 Year Anniversary Party in Brooklyn. Somehow that fact seems completely relevant here, and it was not lost on me that I’ve been living a shitty disgusting life of debauchery that the children at Vice can only dream of writing about, for just about 15 years. And maybe I needed to prove something to myself and every other poor soul that I encountered that night. “Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.” No, I will not stop using that proverb.

Drinks at Iona. Drinks at Levee. P Hustle and shots at Levee. Weed at Levee. Making sure Joe knew I’d be judging him at Levee. Sbordone and a bunch of people I didn’t know into the city. Drinks at Library.



I’m moving this right along at this point for a number of reasons:

1. Because if you know me you already know exactly what this part of the story is like.
2. Because I don’t really remember much besides a Darkbuster singalong with a Boston dude.
3. I’m starting to fucking fever sweat again and am already bored with this story, I can’t imagine what the average reader is thinking.



Drinks at Motor City. Drinks at Welcome to the Johnsons. This is where it goes black. I don’t pass out, so I'm assuming it was more of a temporary shutdown. Just a little nap. I didn’t lock the door and had curled up with my back against it, and at some point I think someone was trying to get in. There was an annoying nudging against my back that didn’t last long. I remember wishing I had my motorcycle jacket on because somehow those moments seem a lot more comfortable when you are wearing a motorcycle jacket.

I woke up, and the people I were with were gone. I was pretty fucking pissed, but I later learned that they had gotten kicked out, which makes it about 20% more acceptable.

I leave the bathroom and head right outside. I was refreshed, I actually felt good. A quick stop at San Loco for a few tacos and an hour long conversation with the two 20 year old college girls who were working there. I thought every girl in NYC either waited tables or hooked to pay for college, I was impressed with their dignified way of trying to make it in the city. I gave them sage advice: don’t let yourself get old, don’t ever take anything too seriously, and any advice that you give doesn’t mean much unless you are also able to follow it. I think I also told them not to trust anyone ever, but I might have taken that one back. Anyway, I tipped them $20 bucks so I'm pretty sure whatever I said to them didn't really matter much by the time I walked out the door.

I made it back home around 4 and woke up at about 10 that morning. It wasn’t until the evening that I realized I had no voice because I hadn’t tried speaking all day. Anthony ordered me soup from Carmines because I couldn’t call and order for myself. Since then I have been lying in a puddle of my own sweat changing my clothes every few hours “drinking plenty of fluids!” and pondering the question, can passing out on the bathroom floor of a bar give you swine flu?

Did you really think I was going to give you a sincere answer? Come now. I treated my body like shit for 48 hours straight, had probably lowered my immune system to that of a newborn child, and had no sleep. I am not shocked that I got sick. And please, save the judging for Sunday.

That being said, it’s probably not healthy to pass out on the bathroom floor of a bar without a motorcycle jacket.