"What?" I said, what happened, what happened to me?
"You're out of the ad-hoc," he said. "You're out of Whuffie. You're
bottomed-out," he said.
This is how you hit bottom in Walt Disney World, in a hotel with the
hissing of the monorail and the sun streaming through the window, the
hooting of the steam engines on the railroad and the distant howl of the
recorded wolves at the Haunted Mansion. The world drops away from you,
recedes until you're nothing but a speck, a mote in blackness.
I was hyperventilating, light-headed. Deliberately, I slowed my breath,
put my head between my knees until the dizziness passed.
"Take me to Lil," I said.
Driving together, hammering cigarette after cigarette into my face, I
remembered the night Dan had come to Disney World, when I'd driven him
to my -- _Lil's_ -- house, and how happy I'd been then, how secure.