How I Spent Easter

It didn't involve Jesus, rabbits, or eggs

I got my first Saturday off in three months yesterday, I’d been working 6-7 days a week since after the holidays and needless to say it had been wearing on me. I felt fatigue on another level, and all my muscles from my neck to my feet ached dully as I tried to sleep. Willing myself to work was a Herculean effort on my part but I just told myself what I always tell myself every time I feel the urge to call in on days like that, “You need the money, Rick” granted it wasn’t like I could afford rent since rates had shot up 50% since the pandemic but I need to stock my Playstation library somehow.

I hadn’t had consecutive days off since I’d gotten the flu in late January and I don’t know when I’ll get another full weekend off. Two of my uncles and my little sister came in from out of town and we spent the day together along with my dad and brother. I felt out of sorts for a good part of the day, hard to describe, just a mixture of fatigue and lightheadedness. The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar, I have some medical conditions that I could attribute it too, I put the thought of requesting stronger medications in the back of my head and managed to enjoy myself for the most part.

Our Easter celebrations used to involve heading down to St. Florian’s, a Polish church in Hamtramck, and receiving a blessing for our food. It was a tradition in my family since my childhood but after my grandmother passed away we stopped attending the blessing. My grandmother was a first generation Polish immigrant who lived through the great depression as a child. These traditions were important to her but as us grandkids aged it felt more like an obligation. I thought maybe we’d revive the tradition as my siblings and cousins began having kids but it never happened. I was baptized Catholic and went to parochial school, but I’ve only attended one church service in the last 20 years. My family are mostly secular.

Me and the fam spent the closing hours of our gathering in my brother’s garage watching the rain fall with the door open and smoking cigars and drinking imported beer. I’d had a Zwiec and two tall cans of Okocim, rare Polish beers we’d found at a local liquor store. It was really the only remotely Polish way we honored the holiday. I’d also bought my brother a fancy bottle of Bourbon, he told me he was more of a rye guy but that he still appreciated it. I had a couple shots of it myself and it was very, very smooth. We spent most of the time regaling each other with funny stories and occasionally the conversation would veer into political territory. But it usually ended with us all agreeing that Trump was an asshole and that was that.

My uncles and my dad were in their 60s and 70s, their hair, what little they had left, was gray and their wrinkles were deeper. All the stories they told I’d heard dozens of times before, it was the same thing with my stories. They’d go on about stupid shit they did as kids and about stupid shit me and my siblings had done as kids and we’d go round and round puffing our cigars and laughing, it was nice.

I left a little early and went home, a little while later tornado sirens were going off. I live in Michigan which is not exactly tornado alley but I’d gotten a warning message on my phone just the same, it appeared on my screen with the standard piercing warning sound. I went outside to listen to the sirens, I usually only heard them every couple of months around 1pm in the afternoon on a Wednesday, hearing them Saturday evening was a new one. The sound is so eerie to me, but in some way it fascinates me as well. The sky was a dome of grey clouds, the rain poured down and it felt like some cosmic horror would breech the veil of grey and lumber through my suburban neighborhood like something out of Lovecraft.

I stayed in the basement for an hour browsing my phone and taking swigs from a bottle of Zwiec whose name I have trouble pronouncing even though I’m 3/4 Polish. The storm abated and no tornado touched down, it was just as well. My work is right down the street from my house and I wouldn’t have minded if a tornado had struck there. But I wasn’t so lucky.

Easter morning I got up and played some God Of War: Ragnarok on my PS5. I always thought David Jaffe was kind of a douche, I remember his expletive laden interviews on G4TV back when the first GOW game came out twenty years ago and he came off to me as a try hard. Great game though, very engaging and fun and I enjoyed the dynamic between Kratos and the now teenage Atreus. I played for about a half hour until I encountered a Draughr nest that killed me like 5 times in a row even with a resurrection stone. I turned the console off because I was getting annoyed, had some coffee and a cigarette, then I returned and killed those fucking Draughrs in the first try. I continued playing for about two more hours then quit to fuck around on my PC for a while.

In the late afternoon I took a drive around town looking for any bars that might be open. As I’ve written about before my small city is a blue majority White enclave that has a pretty expansive bar and club scene. I found a watering hole that was open on Easter and found a seat at the bar top sandwiched between a couple my age and two other guys having a lively conversation about…whatever. The guy to the left of me was sitting sideways on his chair and would keep leaning back and bumping into me as I watched the closing minutes of a Detroit Red Wings game. We’d rallied back from a 4-1 deficit, Patrick Kane scoring the tieing shot. But in the waning minutes of the third period he took a very stupid tripping penalty against Quinn Hughes and Minnesota went on to score on the power play. Despite the Wings best efforts they wound up losing by a single goal and their playoff chances got that much more dim.

The barmaid approached me as I’d been watching the game, I asked for a Mahattan, her expression soured and she told me she didn’t have any vermouth. She had a sort of a cunty attitude I didn’t appreciate. Regardless I ordered a domestic beer and a shot of Hennessey which was a liquor I don’t believe I ever had. I know it’s popular among blacks though, featured in rap songs constantly. I thought of all the government money being spent so blacks could get fucked up on it and felt angry for a moment. I took a small swig of the beer and just started at the shot as it sat undrank on the bar top for several minutes. My stomach had been bothering me and my desire for the shot was waning.

There’s really nothing to do in this town except drink or get high, I thought to myself as I recounted all the bars, nightclubs, and dispensaries within a mile radius of where I lived. I continued staring at my mostly untouched drinks for a while, wondering if I was becoming an alcoholic as the nearly full bar echoed with conversation and the sound of the sports broadcast. I asked the cunty barmaid for the tab and after she brought it I swigged the Hennessey and chased it with a gulp of beer. The shot had cost over $12 and then I got really angry at the thought of black essentially drinking it for free. But it was good, maybe the brothers had better taste than I thought. I didn’t tip the barmaid because my two drinks had cost in the neighborhood of $15 already, and went home.

I played some Mortal Kombat 1 which I’d bought for $10 on the Playstation store and then I went to my computer and began typing this. My boss texted me and gave me tomorrow off, I don’t know if it’s because of the holiday or because we’re running short on work and it might be an indicator that I’m going to get laid off soon. I don’t know what that’ll mean and I don’t know if I’ll have to dust off the ole resume any time soon but it is what it is, I need a damn break from work any way.

So that’s about that, hope you all had a good Easter and were able to spend some quality time with loved ones or just quiety drink yourself into a stupor alone in your living room like me.

Thanks for reading.