A while back I met a girl in a bar. She was small, Irish and kind of cute. Despite my worst chat this girl decided I was worthy enough of an invite back to a party. I wasn't really that keen but there was promise of booze and I didn't want my night to end. Giving me little choice, she pulled me into a taxi that her friends had flagged down.
The party turned out to be made up of seven people. Some party. I entered the flat last and was introduced to the guy who lived there. He looked me up and down as I shook his hand. I accepted his suspicion graciously for I was the random dude that his friend had picked up in a bar. For all he knew he could be letting a thief into his flat.
Turns out I am a thief.
The party was rather dull but my lady friend placed a bottle of vodka in front of me clearly stating that I could help myself. I have a habit of pouring my drinks pretty strong. So after an hour or so the contents of the bottle had dwindled to a trickle. My new friend and I were sitting at a table away from the others who were engrossed in an intense game of Wii bowling. I guess they were leaving us to our new found potential romance, but due to my excessive measures the young lady beside me, who I was finding all the more attractive with every drink, had become slightly worse for wear. Her eyes were closing independently of each other and she was clawing at my chest in a vague attempt at seduction. I knew it wasn't long before she passed out.
'Where's all my vodka gone?' I heard the flat owner say as he passed me heading into the kitchen. I glanced down at the bottle at my feet. There was barely a quarter left. I sobered slightly and tried to assess this situation I found myself in: I was at a rubbish party where I knew no one; the girl who invited me was slumping over the table, and I'd drank all their vodka. I concluded that it was a pretty good time to head home.
I thanked my hosts for their hospitality, realising guiltily that I had said almost nothing to them since I arrived, and hastily left the flat. I stumbled down the steps into the close and out the door which closed solidly behind me.
As I was chilled by cold wintry air I suddenly realised that I had made a wrong turn. I had chosen the wrong door. Instead of coming out onto the street I had used the back door and found myself in the rear courtyard. In my defence there was little distinction between the front and back door. The flats were a modern build arranged in a rough rectangle that surrounded patio gardens and the enclosed bin areas. From where I stood I could see no obvious route onto the street.
I tried the door behind me but it felt like someone had welded it shut. I lurched across to the neighbour's door but again it was welded tight. Feeling like a burglar I stealthily leapt over several low fences and tried all the doors in the block but the damn welder had beaten me to every one.
I sat for a while contemplating my next move. I was trapped in a courtyard with no obvious way out. I couldn't call anyone from the flat I'd just been in as I didn't take the girl's number. I couldn't shout up to the flat either as I could no longer remember which door I'd come out of. A chill had settled in my bones and I realised that the only way I could avoid freezing to death was to start shouting very loudly and hope someone would wake up and open a door for me. This option was obviously quite horrifying but I could see no other way out.
I paced for a while racking my brains for some other plan when I saw it. There was a gap in the wall beside one of the doors. A gap which led to the basement car park. I heard the faint voices of angels singing as I ran toward my escape route. It was a tight fit but I was sure I could squeeze through. I removed my jacket and tossed it through first then clambered sideways through the gap. There was a terrifying moment when I thought I was stuck and images passed across my eyes of the entire block of residents coming out to laugh at the idiot trapped between the car park and courtyard but I breathed in and popped out, landing unceremoniously on the car park floor smacking my elbow on a black BMW for good measure.
I decided that as the car alarm hadn't gone off my fortune was changing and I put my jacket back on to go in search of an exit. At the end of the car park was a black gate. I hurried toward it seeing street lights beyond. It was locked. I had of course expected that it would be locked as I was quite aware that the gates purpose was to keep unwanted guests out. What I was hoping for was that the gate wasn't being a smart arse at its job by locking people in as well. There was no obvious manual latch so I searched about for an electronic lock.
Could I find it? Of course not. I had gone from locking myself in the courtyard to locking myself in the car park. At least it was warmer.
Refusing to be defeated I searched on and discovered a couple of doors that led up to the flats. Thankfully I had outwitted the welder who had clearly underestimated by cunning in getting into the car park. The doors swung gloriously open in my hand and I bounded up the steps relieved that I wasn't going to die of pneumonia or shame in a strange courtyard. I almost danced into the hallway and yanked open the door to freedom.
It slammed shut behind me before I realised that I'd done it again.
Wrong fucking door.
I felt the courtyard laughing at me and windows stared down like mocking eyes as I trudged back toward the gap that led down to the car park. How could I manage to go out the wrong door twice? And why aren't these hallways signposted?
Cursing my stupidity I squeezed through the gap again, went through the car park, up to the hall and spent a few deliberate moments choosing the right door. Wonderful freedom washed over me as I ran out onto the street
It was an eerie night outside with thick fog that reminded me of horror movies. It was perfect for hiding bands of marauding zombies. The way this evening was going I was ready for zombies. I assessed whether I had any weapons that I could use against zombie attackers but other than a set of keys and a phone I had nothing else on my person. Even if I had a weapon I couldn't remember how to kill a zombie. I was pretty sure you had to decapitate them.
The reason I was dwelling on the zombie fog for so long was because I wasn't ready to address the issue that I had no idea where I was. Usually, upon exiting a party drunk, I would try and find the Science Tower and use it as a landmark to guide me in the general direction home but due to the zombie fog I could barely see more than twenty metres ahead. After a while of internal zombie discussion I heard a car pass to my right and went up to find myself on a main road which I vaguely recognised. Stick to the main roads and I'll surely see a signpost.
Anyway, I walked home slightly embarrassed at myself but glad nobody was around to see my idiocy. It took me a long, long time. The thick fog and the fact that I completely lack any sense of direction resulted in it taking me well over an hour to get home. I later checked the internet to see where I had been and I discovered that had I turned right instead of left when I'd found the main road it would have taken me ten minutes to get home. I was only a few streets from my house and I manage to walk all the way into town and back again.
And I didn't see a single zombie.