Intoxication

I slowly took the first drag.

The cool, minty menthol made the roof of my mouth and the back of my throat tingle.

We laughed. Took silly pictures.

Then I took it out of Amanda’s mouth and took another long, slow drag.

I kind of liked it.

Having left our inhibitions back at the seats of the pub, we stumbled toward the cathedral. Amanda and I soaked up the light of the setting sun, with me holding the cigarette.

Amused with myself, I took another drag. I passed it to someone else and ambled off by myself.

I heard a melody. Paired with a deep vibration. The stone floors in the entrance vibrated through my shoes. I wandered into the sanctuary, took a seat and just listened.

The notes echoed through me, up to the vaulted ceilings and drifted around the expanse of the nave. I didn’t know the melody–probably some ancient hymn. But that didn’t matter. I didn’t need to know.

The taste of menthol lingered, my brain buzzing from the alcohol.

But the sound that filled the room slowly unfurled around me. Comforting me.

The high sustained soprano notes of a boys choir intertwined with the weight and power of adult voices. When I remembered to breathe again, I let the music envelop me and a calmness descended into me.

While the surroundings influenced this feeling–it was coming from within me.

I sat with it.

I drank from it.

I became intoxicated from it.

But in a new and different way.

I am an atheist.

One who drinks, smokes, and swears.

I also carried an unwavering self-possession.

My eyes met Amanda’s as she glanced in through the entrance. I took a deep breath and stood up. I took her hand and we headed into the pub across the street.