There’s a lot of things I thought I’d be doing on Halloween, but I can honestly say that I never expected a morgue to be in the cards. What’s funny is that I was just making fun of the sign for Georgetown Morgue here in Seattle, and how I thought it was an extremely inappropriate sign for a morgue (two soles of the feet with "Georgetown Morgue" in the middle of them).
I now know that it’s not an actual morgue, unfortunately, but also, more unfortunately for me, this isn’t the morgue I ended up in. No, sir, I ended up in the real deal. Less haunted, more sterile, the lighting sucks, people suck, greeting service sucks. But, whatever, I can at least forewarn you guys, so you can attempt to steer clear of the Big Time. I mean, you should totally have fun, but maybe try not to accomplish as much as I had that night.
So, without further warning, here is (what I believe to be) the fully complete list of things I had done on Halloween before I hit the sheets.
I started the morning of Halloween off with one foot already in the grave—a hangover from Hell and topped it off with a Bloody Mary. Choice (makes OK sign with fingers). What’s more, the bartender remembered me from the night before because I had let them know they’d be seeing me again very soon, and I asked them to slip "somethin’ fun" in on my next visit. I do not know what that somethin’ was, but I can tell you consequences weren’t a thing in my head that day.
I ate a Rice Dog in China Town, and it was the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten. So, I ordered seven more and ate them all. I started to get really thirsty at this point, so I went to Joe’s right next door, ordered four double whiskey Cokes, and one cider, then stumbled out proud and still alert somehow (but, I mean, I could have just been lying to myself... I also don’t remember if I was kicked out or if I just left proud and inebriated, thirst having been quenched). I did not leave, however, before having my face properly painted by a girl at the bar, who was offering free face paintings. I accidentally wiped my eyes, forgetting about the paint, and made myself look like the Babadook.
I tried to pick a fight with a Seattle football fan. I don’t know anything about sports, but I tried to tell them my team was better, anyway. This was when I got pushed into traffic. Unfortunately, this was not where I died, just where I got hit by a car, yelled at because I most definitely looked like a drunk, crazy person with Babadook face paint, and stumbled off upset that I didn’t win a non-existent fight.
A cop only looked at me for a slight second because there was only one of them in his car, and apparently, there need to be two in order to intervene safely and "legally." I think I was just too much for them to handle on Halloween (aren’t I always? dead girl wink wink). I may be dead, but I can still make myself laugh.
I started to drive home somehow and had a near-death experience with the stupid train that has to go by literally every time I try to get anywhere in this city. WHY ARE THE TRAINS SO BUSY? WHY ARE PEOPLE STILL USING TRAINS SO MUCH? I like to have these "near-death experiences," though, so I continued this adventure by just grazing a telephone pole and driving close enough to give the guy I saw swerving on a scooter an aneurism. I yelled "FIVE POINTS!" out my window, which made him look up, hit the edge of the curb, and fall over. I laughed. I definitely belong where I am right now...
I never made it home. I actually ended up going to some strip club, confusing it for an equally shady spot in Portland, asked where the alcohol was, was told there was none, so I scowled at the attendant, looked at the pretty lady, said I appreciated what she did, that I was sorry I wouldn’t be attending and left. I don’t think she heard me; in fact, I don’t think what I was saying constituted English or any other spoken language. Just gibberish puking out of my mouth as I also vomited. Word vomit followed by real vomit. Rad.
At this point in the night, I’m pretty sure I am close to my final evolutionary state. That is, somewhere along the lines of a raccoon scrounging the ground for cigarette butts, a Gorton’s Fisherman representative (I try stealing someone’s crab traps and fishing pole), and sloth. I am leaning more towards sloth by the end of it—a chipper, crazy sloth. Anyway, seven cigarette butts (so, one whole cigarette) and five random open bottles filled with liquid of some sort later, my car is parked at Pikes’, right in front of the Ferris wheel. I think, "Awesome. Good parking job! I almost never get this close to anything!" I hop out of my car, hurl, and tell the Ferris wheel guy, "one ticket." He attempts to veer me in the other direction, takes my car keys—which I murderously stare at him for—and sends me on my way.
The dock is pretty long, and I’m pretty hungry. So, I grabbed someone’s fish and chips they were eating on the dock. They didn’t like that, and some guy punched me in the face, and I proceeded to tell him that my football team was better than his. He said he was from California, to which I then reiterated to him that my football team was definitely better than his and fell off the dock.
And that’s how I ended up here. Not elegant. Not unique or artistically created. No, I just drowned a drunk sea creature. A sea creature so pickled that when the police or whoever grabbed me (why would I care or notice), I was still perfectly intact. I mean, it was also really cold water, but still.
Anyway, the moral of the story is, if you drink enough and die in frozen water, you can still leave a sexy corpse. Also, wear black underwear. Or, I guess the other moral of the story here; do at least one of these things on Halloween, but don’t do them all. Unless, of course, you want to be my buddy in wherever-this-is-land. It isn’t great, but hey, I am pretty funny.
Hannah One Cup is currently still in the morgue. Her body is being studied by science nerds to help figure out how she survived that long and how her body still looks so damn hot. After they are done with that nonsense, she will be placed in someone’s woods for the coyotes to eat. Mmmmm. Like rum ham, but a person. She still thinks she’s funny. Although she’s dead, she can still be found on Facebook under her name.
