[h2]I must make it on time; the port shouldn't be too far from the city gates.[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]I shouldn’t have attended the Duchess of Winchester’s ball—it dragged on well into the night, and the demons of last night’s drunkenness will haunt me all day long. So much wine! My thirst proved a worthy rival to its abundance. And Miss Janet—such temptation! I know that my last memory of this damned island will always be of Miss Janet’s face, distorted in her favour by the generous lens of wine.[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]My thoughts, drowned in alcohol, feel heavy, sluggish, colliding into one another. Concentrating is nearly as difficult as commanding this tired old body to put one foot in front of the other. Where was I going?[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]“To the port, of course! That’s where the ships depart!” I shout to my brain, desperate for it to wake up once and for all.[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]The carriage dropped me off well north of Southampton; I should still make it in time before the ship sets sail. A tram rumbles past, and I run towards it, dragging my luggage through the muddy street. I leap aboard with an effort that makes every neuron in my head scream. Damn the wine, damn the music, and damn Miss Janet. The unholy trinity of those three has left me feeling like a wretched husk of a man today.[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]A portly gentleman, whom I accidentally jostled with my luggage, grumbles and curses at me in a fierce Scottish brogue. I find his accent amusing, and an involuntary childish giggle escapes me. Damn that wine again. The Scotsman stands, all his substantial bulk bearing down on me, grabs me by the lapels of my jacket, and unceremoniously shoves me out of the tram door—luckily, the vehicle had stopped at a corner. I land sprawling in the middle of the street. The hefty northerner, in a show of reluctant civility, throws my luggage after me.[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]I lie on my back, staring at the sky, in the middle of an unfamiliar street. I have no idea where I am, completely lost in this part of Southampton. A horse comes to a halt mere inches from my head, its large eyes staring into mine. Had it taken one more step, it would have ended my misery by trampling me.[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]Dazed, I get to my feet and see a dilapidated carriage. Its driver is a boy of about twelve, hurling insults at me in an accent I find more familiar. Surely it must be National Insult the Drunk in Distress Day, and no one thought to send me the memo. I stammer out a clumsy apology, showing him three coins and begging him to take me to the port as quickly as possible. I promise him that if we make it before the ship departs, the coins are his.[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]On the way to the port, I regain some sobriety with an infallible method: leaning out the back of the carriage and vomiting my entire being. I nearly lose consciousness. The boy throws me a lukewarm bottle of beer, assuring me that drinking it will stave off dehydration. I believe the lad has earned himself a fourth coin.[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]We reach the outskirts of the port, and the commotion is far greater than I imagined. The carriage can go no further, and I’ll have to cover the last stretch on foot. I hand the boy his well-earned payment and begin pushing my way through the crowd and the carts.[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]Sweat drenches me, and my luggage feels heavier with every step. It’s as if the roots of my homeland are trying to hold me back, tangling around my suitcases and ankles.[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]“There’s nothing left for me here!” I shout, trying to convince my muscles to make one final effort to drag my body and belongings forward.[/h2] [h2]Oxford mocked me for half my life. London swallowed me whole, chewed me up, and spat me out at the ticket booth where I bought my passage on this ship.[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]From where I stand, I can see the gangway stairs. I only have to navigate through dozens of families bidding farewell to their loved ones. I start making my way, apologising for the shoving. People look at me with a mixture of disgust and pity; I look and smell like a man who has hit rock bottom. I apologise again, for the pushing, for my existence.[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]I place one foot on the gangway just as the ship’s horn blares, announcing its departure. The weight that had been crushing me suddenly lifts, as though I’ve sprouted wings. This cursed island conspired against my fate, but my will proved stronger than my baggage, the obese Scotsman, the wine, and Janet (especially Janet). I fought, and I won. For once in my life, I’ve bested this homeland that has given me nothing but sorrow.[/h2] [h2] [/h2] [h2]I hand my ticket to the gangway steward, who smiles and welcomes me aboard the Titanic.[/h2]
