お仕事日誌＆一日一麺

ぴしっとした生活を送りたいときのスイッチ、その２。

酔って自宅に帰ってくるときに、ときおり思いいたること。それはエレベーターから自宅の扉までの距離。

I waited for the compressed-air hiss of the elevator doors shutting behind me before closing my eyes. Then, gathering up the pieces of my mind, I started of on the sixteen steps down the hall to my apartment door. Eyes closed, exactly sixteen steps. No more, no less. My head blank from the whiskey, my mouth reeking from cigarettes.

Drunk as I get, I can walk those sixteen steps straight as a ruled line. The fruit of many years of pointless self-discipline. Whenever drunk, I'd throw back my shoulders, straighten my spine, hold my head up, and draw a deep lungful of the cool morning air in the concrete hallway. Then I'd close my eyes and walk sixteen steps straight through the whiskey fog.

Within the bounds of that sixteen-step world, I bear the title of "Most Courteous of Drunks." A simple achievement. One has only to accept the fact of being at face value.

No ifs, ands, or buts. Only the statement "I am drunk," plain and simple.

事実を事実として受け入れられる酔っぱらいが「もっとも礼儀正しい酔っぱらい」。たとえ、エレベーターから自宅の扉までが十六歩でなかったとしても。