A few years ago I woke up in a bed that wasn’t...

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A few years ago I woke up in a bed that wasn’t mine.

I mean that in a “I have no recollection of where I am or how I got here” kind of way. My head hurt, and I was laying next to a girl. I knew the girl, she had just rented my old apartment a couple of weeks ago. I tried to close my eyes and go back to sleep. We must’ve gone out the night before, right? I knew I’d gone out the night before: I was very hungover, and my hands smelled like cigarettes, and at that point, I didn’t really smoke. I opened my eyes again and looked at the ceiling. It looked suspiciously like my old room.

Come to think of it, it was my old room.

“Oh Jeeeeeeesus,” I whispered.

I had gone back to my old apartment, a few blocks away from my new one. And passed out in someone elses bed. A real Robert Downey Jr moment. I had fallen asleep with my clothes on - the sign of either the protagonist in a 1980’s teen comedy or the onset of alcoholism - and spent several minutes trying to put my boots on as quietly as possible and trying not to wake her giant great dane. The giant beast had heard me get up and had decided that it was indeed time for walkies. Using every ounce of mental strength possible, I thought to the dog, jesus christ dog, go back to sleep, it’s not walkies you fucking animal get this through your head. He seemed to understand, and stopped wagging his tail. He “humphed’ before going back to sleep. I opened the door to my old room, and quietly slipped out.

As I was turning around, her roommate is coming down the hall.
“Oh hey!” she said.
“Uh, hey”
“Long night?”
“Long night.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Somewhere… I, uh…”
I reached into my pocket and found the keys, and took the key off the fob.
“Here,” I said, handing it to her, “This is yours”
She put it in the breast pocket on her bathrobe and patted it.
“How’s your new place?” she asked.
“It’s good. It’s good.”
“All moved in?”
“… Yeah”
“Want some coffee?”
“Nah, I should really get going”
“I just made some! Are you sure?”
“Yeah, pretty positive.”
“Ok, then! Well, I’ll see you later. I’ll tell (redacted) you left early.”
“Oh you don’t have to do that,” I said.
“Ha! Fair enough! Byee!”

I left the apartment and walked down the stairs and onto the street.
“I really have to stop drinking so much fucking whiskey,” I said to myself. And after that, I did.

edit: That story isn’t one of the finer moments in my life. In all essence, it’s not funny ha-ha as it is ‘holy shit, that was absolutely ridiculous’.