I had achieved that strange drunken state which only happens once you’ve finished drinking. It seems to be particularly prevalent on public transport, or any place where you have no access to a toilet. I’d only had two or three pints, and as I was leaving the pub I still felt sober. By the time the bus arrived, I was mashed. My drinking had lost its momentum, and allowed the alcohol to catch up with me. I could feel my brain sloshing around inside my head as I lurched my way up to the top deck and surveyed the scene, my eyes half closed and a pleasantly idiotic expression on my face. I found a seat and let my head be swayed around by the juddering of the diesel. I dozed in and out of consciousness, occasionally being jolted awake as the bus went over a pothole. The windows had misted over with the condensation of people’s breath, and I had to wipe clear a small porthole of vision so I could see where I was. I was afraid that I might miss my stop, so I went downstairs, where the yapping of small children irritated me intensely. In the cold, with the evening’s beer inside me, the walk home from the bus stop seemed a lot further than usual. I drove my hands deeper into my pockets, hunched my shoulders tighter, and tried to resist the ministrations of my bladder. I was nearly there, but the alleys looked inviting. A police car drove past me, slowly. They were looking for someone. As always, I began to feel guilty of something. Did I have any dope in my pockets? I didn’t, but the faint familiar edginess was still there. A car was coming towards me on the right hand side, slowly. It was them again. They pulled up just ahead of me, and I stepped towards the car, reaching up to take my headphones from my ears. “Excuse me mate, would you mind telling me where you’ve just come from?” “Mile End Road. I’ve just got off the bus from the West End.” I felt as if I was sounding nervous. How drunk was I? Was I giving them too much information? Why were they asking me? I didn’t look guilty of anything, did I? Weren’t policemen supposed to call you sir? “It’s just that we’ve had reports of a number of cars being broken into in this area this evening.” “Oh, right.” What was I supposed to say? Alibis began forming themselves in my mind. I didn’t look like the kind of person who went round nicking car radios, did I? I was a respectable citizen, a graduate who wore a suit to work. I stopped, realising what I was wearing. Jeans, trainers, hooded top. Young IC1 male between 5’10” and 6’2” walking quickly. I looked like your typical young criminal. “Sorry to bother you.” “That’s OK.” As they drove away, the whole scene seemed rather surreal to me. Surely they shouldn’t have just believed me like that. If I was nicking radios I’d have some alibi ready for this eventuality. Maybe they could tell from my voice that I was too suburban to be a villain. I carried on walking, doing my best to look unsuspicious.
The most important thing we ever learn at school is that the most important things can’t be learned at school.
What I Talk About When I Talk About Running