I was wondering all night as I rolled around in bed, unable to sleep with my head to the left or to the right, naked or under a blanket, after a cup of water, after washing my face, after trying the pillow or trying without it — why in the world do I have this terrible heartburn?

I went to a nice quaint birthday party where they played jazz and served dinner, all nice people — so it’s not like I ate something of bad quality. The birthday girl and I shared two cigarettes. Not bad. Not something that has ever caused a heartburn for me.

Was it the wine? Was it the tequila boom?…

I ate the salad this morning again and it tasted just fine. Food didn’t try coming back up my throat, burning it on the way there, like it did last night. I sat quietly listening to Chet Baker when I had an epiphany: “THE DOUBLE VODKA SHOT!” that I decided not to chase to prove how Russian I am.

At least I proved it.