As the Years Churn By…
Wednesday, June 1st, 2011 |
Life
…in which I talk about Memorial Day and the havoc it wreaked on me.
I’ve never really been a “Party Person.” I’m far from what you would call a heavy drinker. I had my first real drink of alcohol well after my twenty-first birthday. I only drink to excess on rare occasion and even then, only in the company of particular people. As a result, I rarely get sick from drinking – though it has happened – and I’ve with rare occasion, I never get hungover. That being said, I do, on occasion, get silly.
- I’ll be honest, I never shopped at this store.
This Memorial Day, we went over to our good friends Craig and Laura’s house, and I took along a four pack of some of my prime home brewed beer. That’s just enough to keep me well lubricated through an entire afternoon and evening.
It just so happened, however, that Craig, my closest and dearest friend, decided to pull out a literal plethora of imported and flavored tequilas. Now, I don’t drink tequila that much, I’m more of a rum and vodka kind of person – when not simply drinking beer, that is. But when someone hands you a shot glass and says “if vanilla extract tasted like it smelled, it would be this…” you’ve just got to try it.
There were four or five different tequilas and they were all wonderful. Not one of them would I mix into a margarita, they were all too good just on their own. So between each beer, I would have another shot of tequila, and then when all the beer was gone, Craig, bless his heart, demanded that I drink the beer that another guest had left behind when he went home earlier.
Now, at past parties, I’ve been drunker, by far. Again, I only really drink to excess on rare occasion, and for the most part, I reserve that experience for the annual luau, but I’m usually aware of what I’m planning to do before I get there. Not that there’s a lot of preparation that goes into drinking heavily, but I like to be in the right mindset, so I can be prepared to drink a lot of water when I get home and stave off most of the after effects. Monday, however, was enjoyable, but wholly unexpected. My body was not ready for the shock to the system. At the end of the night, I was still pretty coherent, but I knew in the back of my head that I had pushed myself too far. Unfortunately, I was two apathetic to care.
Through the night, I woke up every couple of hours. I never thought I would have to run to the restroom, but I always felt just a bit queasy. I made myself get up out of bed and have another huge drink of water each time I woke up, trying to make the feeling go away. I honestly don’t know if it was the alcohol, or the ridiculous amount of food (and cheese) I ate that day that was tormenting me so, but nevertheless, I wanted my stomach to settle so I could at least feel well enough to go to work the next morning.
Well, four glasses of water and a shot of “Pink Stuff” and I still felt borderline vomitty the next morning. I managed to pull myself awake enough to text in declaring my foul health and rolled back to sleep. There was no way I could miss the whole day as I had two very important meetings in the late afternoon, but thankfully, that gave me several hours to try and finish “sleeping it off.” When I finally dragged myself out of bed at 10am, I felt marginally better. A big cup of yogurt led to an unfulfilled longing for bananas, but by the time I got to work, I was at least feeling presentable and productive.
Like I said, I’m not sure if it was the drink, the food, or the cheese, but something hit me hard that night and I paid for it. I need to start being more careful because apparently I’m getting too old for this shit.
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