Hidupku di Ujung Botol Martell

SURABAYA-Lamat-lamat kudengar suara langkah-langkah kaki itu mendekat, bahkan suara klakson mobil makin gencar. Aku yakin suara itu tepat berada di seberang kepalaku. Beberapa menit lalu, kurasakan rasa hangat meraba betis kaki dan aku tersentak. Aku sadar jika tubuhku telah limbung sejak semalam, tiga jam yang lalu.

Sedetik kemudian kuraba pipi yang terasa ngeres…Wah benar, rasa ngeres yang menempel basah oleh keringat di pipiku ini adalah debu jalan. Secara bersamaan, suara tertawa dari beberapa bibir terdengar di atas kepalaku. Kubuka mata, Ya Allah, aku telah terbaring di lantai halte bus. Halte ini telah dipenuhi para manusia yang tengah menunggu bus.

Mereka tampak tertawa tertahan dan beberapa diantaranya sempat menatapku aneh. Aku tahu mereka pasti bertanya-tanya, ‘orang ini pasti gila’. Jarum jam tanganku menunjuk angka 8 kurang 30 menit. Aku mencoba bangkit namun tubuhku masih limbung akibat empat botol Martell yang kutenggak semalam. Aku terhempas kembali di lantai halte. Seorang pria mendatangi dan membantuku bangkit. “Mabuk ya mas?” tanyanya. Kutatap wajah pria berkacamata minus ini. Rambutnya cepak, berkulit putih dengan bekas carut di bibir atasnya. Pria dengan sorot mata redup dan setenang genangan air.

“Aku nggak apa-apa mas, tapi…,”saat itu juga aku teringat motorku. Motor kesayangan ayah, mampuslah aku jika harus kehilangan motor yang tak sempat terkunci dan kutinggalkan di seberang jalan halte ini. Dan…Alhamdullilah, ternyata motor itu masih nongkrong ditempatnya. Kuhampiri motorku meski terasa berat.

Kutampik tangan pria yang mencoba membantuku dengan halus. “Sudah, aku bisa kok mas, suwun(terima kasih)…,”ungkapku. Beruntung kunci motor masih tersimpan di saku celanaku. Beberapa butir nasi bekas muntahan masih menempel di celana dan baunya masih lekat amis alkohol, kecut. Kunyalakan motor dan langsung menancap lajunya. Motor tua buatan korea ini masih mampu melaju kencang meski agak oleng lantaran aku belum sadar 100 persen dari mabuk…Sial, hidupku masih di ujung botol Martell. Memuakkan…

Catatan hitam di bulan Maret 2007

Triple Seven Discotique

SURABAYA, I heard a faint sound of footsteps came closer, even a car horn sounds more intense. I'm sure the voice was right on the other side of my head. A few minutes ago, I felt a warm feeling legs feeling legs and I gasped. I know if my body had been giddy since last night, three hours ago. A second later I touch dirty cheek that feels right ... Well, guess what stuck dirty sweat on my cheeks are dirt roads. Taken together, the laughter came from some lip over my head. I opened my eyes, Oh God, I was lying on the floor of the bus stop. This shelter has been full of people who were waiting for the bus. They were laughing under his breath and some of them had looked at me weird. I know they must be wondering, 'These people must be mad'. Clock hands pointed to the number 8 or less 30 minutes. I tried to get up but my body still swayed by four bottles of Martell that I down last night. I slammed back on the floor of the bus stop. A man came and helped me get up. "Drunk?" He asked. I looked at the man's face was minus glasses. Cropped hair, white with former bawdy in his upper lip. Man with dim eyes and as quiet as a pool of water. "I'm okay, but ...," at that moment I remembered my bike. Motor father's favorite, I'd die if you should lose no time the motor is locked and left at this bus stop across the street. And ... Thanks god, the bike was still hanging in place. I went though my bike was heavy. I refuse hands of men who tried to help with the smooth. "Yes, I can, thank you ...," I said. Lucky bike lock is still stored in my pocket. A few grains of rice still clinging vomit on his pants and was closely fishy smell of alcohol, wryly. I turned on the motor and the speed is directly embedded. Korean-made motor is still capable of speeding though a bit shaky because I had not realized 100 percent of the drunk ... Damn, my life is still at the end of the bottle Martell. Disgusting ...

The black notes in March 2007

Triple Seven Discotique