Herein lies an accurate acount of what occured on my 21st birthday.
The night began with picking up my dear cousin at the airport. From the get go I told him that my aim was to not get slobbering drunk, as I did not like it or itapos;s after effects. This is based on an experience I�had while at a little party my sister threw while my parents were out of town. I�did not like it, and I�did not wish to repeat it.
We made our way the the Liquor Den to get some boozery. For my first purchase as a legal imbiber of alcohol, I�bought a fifth of Captain Morgans, and Hal threw in a nice bottle of Absolut Mandarin. We then made our way to Four Peaks, a local bar/brewery that is famed for itapos;s wide selection of beers. Now, I�donapos;t like beer, and I knew this at the time, but I�felt it was important to try and find a beer that I like. However, I was not prepared for the consequences of not liking whatever I got, which was that I would have to finish an entire glass of gag inducing beer. I�took a glass of Oatmeal whatever. It was nasty. Nuff said.
After I had completed my endurance test and Hal had been through two Grape Vodka drinks, Ziva made a very special guest appearance at Four Peaks. She insisted on buying me a drink. Now, I declined at first, but because itapos;s some unwritten law that people under the influence have to be as predictable as possible, I�accepted to drink half of a rum and coke, my drink of choice for the evening. After I�had drained the whole glass (again predictable), I insisted that we depart for Halapos;s abode. Shaneen joined in along the way, and along with Zivaapos;s mother, Rachel, we began to drink. And drink. And drink.
Now, I�ask you, what good is a night of drinking if you donapos;t get into a heated argument? And what good is that heated argument if it isnapos;t about�something incredibly divisive, like politics?�Those questions are the reasons why, with the exclusion of Shaneen, everyone joined in on a rousing debate on where the fault should lie regarding the economic crisis. Long story short, Iapos;m a liberal young person, the other three are conservative 30 or older somethings. This went on at length, and all the while, I drank. Finally, at midnight, and after hopping around Halapos;s backyard, I decided that the time had come to walk home, which is a 10 minute venture.
I wasnapos;t as drunk as I was at my sisterapos;s party, and I had eaten and taken every precaution I thought a man could take to have a decent drinking experience. However, this proved folly. I promptly arrived home, and vomitted. The beer, the multiple rum and cokes, and the so-so spinach dip with pita bread flew into the toilet. This was an all night occurence. As hard as I tried, I could not stop vomiting.
After the first round had ceased, I�retreated to my room to try and sleep it off. This was not to be. I had to keep puking, but I didnapos;t want to spend the whole night draped over the toilet. That is when I was struck by what has to be the most predictable drunkard idea imaginable. I decided that the best option was to puke out the window. Keep in mind that I live in a single story house, so itapos;s not like there was a great drop or anything, but still. The sight of me hanging my head out the window in a vomitous stupor was probably hilarious.
As the night (and eventually morning) drew on, I found other, similarly predictable places to vomit. The kitchen sink, the floor, a glass I was trying to drink water out of, so on and so forth. It was only after I took a long, long shower that I felt even close to being okay. I still feel a bit pukish.
And so thatapos;s that. I will not be drinking again for quite some time.
diagram of bones in skull, diagram of bones in the body, diagram of bones of the body.
