Big Weekend

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My contribution to Edition 87 of Shift Miner Magazine was called Big Weekend. I hope you enjoy it.

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Big Weekend
Pete stood alone in the soft glow of the dawn at the bus-stop, waiting for the shift-bus. He had a jacket on, but even that wasn't enough to keep out the cold. Winter was coming quick.

Someone came round the corner, walking towards Pete, smoking a cigarette. It was Will. He stopped a few metres from Pete and said G'day quietly as he looked down the street for the bus.

Pete said, "You look shattered."

"Yeah, big weekend."

"What'd you get up to?"

Will drew hard on his smoke. "Friday was a few quiet ones at Smithy's place. Followed by a few more. Didn't get home till about three."

"Good time?"

Yeah, not too bad. Slept through Saturday, though." Will threw his cigarette butt on the ground, then quickly lit another. He liked to get as much nicotine into himself as he could before the forty-minute bus-ride to site.

"And Saturday?" said Pete. "You get up to much?"

Will managed a grin. "Oh yeah. We went hard on Saturday night. Starting drinking at our place, for a while, to get limbered up. Then we went up the Tavern."

"Drinking before drinking?"

Will gave Pete a dirty look. "Too expensive to get completely rat-faced at pub prices. Can't smoke out, either. There was a band at the Tav, too. They sounded pretty good; I think."

Pete thought an iPod would have sounded good to Will when he was that well lubricated, but he said nothing.

Will continued. "We started doing shots there, which was fun, until it got a little out of hand. We stayed at the Tavern till we got kicked out."

"Too drunk?"

"No, closing time. Funny thing, I was sure I went home after that. At least I think I was going to."

"So what happened?"

"I can't rightly remember, but it looks like we went down to The Arms after that."

Pete grimaced. The only attractive feature of The Arms was that it had the latest closing time in town, and 1980s prices. A rough joint, but you could stay later, and get drunker.. "You can't remember what you did?"

Will smirked. "It was too big a night to remember. I saw the pictures on Facebook though; it was The Arms alright. We got hammered. A really good night. Very big night."

"You get sick?"

"At least a few times. Smithy seemed to think that was the best thing to take photos of."

Pete shook his head. Smithy had developed a talent for drinking photography over the last few years. It was kind of like wildlife and action photography combined. Tired of not remembering what he did the night before, Smithy had started taking pictures along the way with his phone camera. He could still take good pictures when he was so drunk he couldn't walk. Facebook had made Smithy's photos of his escapades accessible to the world. A lot of people logged in to see what they and their friends had been up to, but couldn't remember.

Will looked down the street. "Bus's coming," he said, as he lit his last smoke.

Pete said, "You have such big weekends. You must hate Mondays."

"Not at all, mate. I need a week at work to get away from it all and recover. A man needs some rest in life."