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Leave me baby, I'm too far gone to save
Alex was disturbingly drunk, the belligerent and boisterous type of drunk she'd have to apologize for when the harsh light of morning struck her like a semi-truck. That was tomorrow's problem, though. Tonight, she could hardly see past her swimming vision nor focus on much more than keeping her feet firmly planted on the ground and the telling slur from slipping into her speech.
"Why is it so fucking hot in here?" She whined obnoxiously, ripping the offending jacket from her shoulders. First, they weren't in anything more structurally stable than a hastily propped-up tent, whose sides flapped lightly in the breeze, a breeze that carried the sixty-nine-degree temperature easily on its back. Second, the Jack Daniels running through her blood like a raft downriver was what warmed her to an unbearable degree. She'd been downing the substance like water, ignoring the bitter, burning after taste it left on her tongue.
The band watched her wearily. They'd seen her inebriated before, but never to this extent, and it was causing concern to grow amongst them. "You need to chill out," Jake warned, and the weight of his judgemental gaze worked to kill her vibe.
It was his own fucking fault Alex had found herself in such a state. However, she wasn't going to think about that now. The drink was doing its job in dulling the trifling thoughts she'd wrestled to the back of her tumultuous mind.
She let out an exasperated huff at his humbling. "Whatever. You're no fun anyway," she stood to stand but wobbled on her whiskey-laden legs. The worried look whirled in each of their eyes as they trailed her unstable movements towards the exit.
"Should someone go with her?" Danny asked, head bobbing back and forth between the other three. Their faces read pinched and perturbed, but no one made a move to pursue her. She made her own mess, but was it best that she be left to lie in it?
Jake scoffed and adjusted his shirt unnecessarily because it wasn't the costumed clothing making him uncomfortable. "She'll be fine," he assured, but the certainty held no conviction, and the corners of his mouth remained downturned.
That was the last thing Alex heard before the flap fluttered shut behind her, and she found the metaphor suiting. She was on the outside, and all her problems would remain trapped with them, with him, in the nylon and polyester prison.
Now, she just had to contend with what to do next. The VIP pass dangling on the lanyard around her neck left the playing field open, but she realized too late that she'd willfully abandoned the people she'd actually come to the festival with. Joy had departed after Denmark, and Danny's girlfriend, Mackenzi, wouldn't be joining them until Belgium. Thus, Alex was left to her own detrimental devices. How much trouble could she get into strolling around Lollapalooza Stockholm sufficiently sloppy? She was fiending to find out.
"Alex?" Her name being called in question broke her from the indecisiveness. Turning towards the voice, she immediately knew she was too intoxicated for this encounter. The unkempt mop of curly black hair sat atop his bushy brow, the loose tee shirt draping effortlessly across his lanky frame. Flashes of a forgotten night flickered across her fuzzy vision.
