Fear And Loathing In Toronto

I was somewhere around Union station on the edge of downtown when the gin began to take hold. I remember making it to the station but forgot how I got there. My phone had no battery and I'm directionally challenged, yet I somehow made it where I needed to be.

It was 5:08 am. "The station won't open until 5:30," said the security guard at the entrance. I had two slices of pizza, a bottle of gin, and a useless phone to keep me company. Pretty soon, three guys waited outside with me. One homeless, another in rehab, and a guy who was either drunk or angry. I was too drunk to tell.

Being drunk makes you strike up conversations you wouldn't normally have. I was trying to make my way home, while the homeless guy was looking for a place to sleep. I don't know the intentions of the rehab or mad man, but they blankly stared at me as I drank and ate my pizza. I would've ignored the men if my phone was working, but the gin got the best of me. "Would you guys like a sip?" I offered, hoping to rid myself of the bottle. Surprisingly, none obliged. At first.