One drink too many

I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment. - William Shakespeare



Tina asked where I was. I thought it was a funny thing to ask considering that she almost always knew where I was. And vice versa. Having been recently orphaned by friends who left one after the other to build their fortunes in various parts of the Western hemisphere, we promised to always stick with each other. As if I did not, pre-exodus. Heck, we went as far as going to the custom jeweler to help her choose the wedding rings, eh? Well, JP surely gave her the details of how he wanted the bands to look, but hey, this is, like, major stuff. Right, Bloggie?

Anyway, she reminded me that I was supposed to be with her in a couple of hours to watch some movie. I didn’t recall ever knowing about the movie…translation: she needed company.

I didn’t remember what we watched. Was it that mediocre? As we were walking out of the cinema, Tina received a text message from Nelson asking where we were blah blah blah. Tina turned to me and pleaded for more of my time as Nelson could really use some company. I could see where this was heading, but knowing fully well what Nelson was going through, I called home to say I’d be staying with Tina and would be back the following day.

We fetched him at Padi’s Point. He was alone, as usual. He looked fine to me. The food was a major bummer so we decided to pack up and head to Salo instead.

The place was almost deserted except for the couple at the far end of the bar. Nelson ordered a bottle of tequila. I said I wanted loads of vegetable sticks. So we got both. And Tina’s octopus. I was expecting a highly charged atmosphere but it was not coming. What? After downing the bottle? Nelson signaled something to the server who promptly went away after being given some instructions. He came back after a couple of minutes to deliver another bottle. I was keeping tabs. I was going for my 12th shot. Oh gosh. I started to feel a burning sensation in my throat. Plus it was getting so hot. Oh my gosh. Just then TY, Nelson’s brother, came in and joined us. He immediately worked us into a bantering mode. I barely managed a weak smile while I thought Tina was getting more hyper by the minute. I downed my 13th - quite foreboding, I must add. I brought my head up, looked at Tina across the table and saw her with three pairs of eyes.

I thought Nelson saw the signs. I told him I couldn’t stand up. I felt my body getting numb and weightless. Plus, everything was spinning in slow motion. TY sent for coffee for Tina and myself but I was clearly so out of it already. Nelson stood up. He had to drag me to the restroom.

I was failing – and falling – miserably. I couldn’t even expel a dot of carrot stick no matter how I tried. I would not poke my finger down my throat, the way bulimics do, if my life depended on it. Then, without warning, it happened. In no time, the sink was clogged with orange, green and white sludge. Think bird’s nest soup, Bloggie. Yikes!!! I really thought the onslaught would add my intestines into the mix as a fitting garnish. It was sickening. But it didn’t stop there.

Strapped at the backseat, I was still throwing up in the car. The last thing I remember doing was plunking my wasted carcass into the sofa and passing out faster than you could say forty winks.

I recall wanting to be really, really drunk since I first tasted of alcohol. Who wouldn’t want to be when your first was a bottle of dom perignon my guy friend in high school stashed into his bag for the after-prom party in their home’s attic? He eventually came out of the closet. That must explain his fine taste at an early age. Don’t you think so, Bloggie?

So. That was how being totally, absolutely soused was all about. At least for me. I didn’t even plan it. And, by golly, I found out only after three decades? Tell me, Bloggie, is it worse for others?

One last thing. There’s something I have disproven. You should not believe it when people say they don’t know what they’re doing when they’re drunk and that they don’t remember what happened. It’s all bull. They know it. How else could I spill all this to you, Bloggie? Or was my sottishness ain’t enough???

Whatever. I am just so thankful I was with friends. Lesson well learned.


p.s.

Bloggie, the lady jeweler makes really nice rings! Hmmm…as if! Well, at least I learned some nifty things about wedding bands from the gracious lady. ;->