Lesson learned.
Back in the early nineties, while still in the Army, was when I came to the realization that I can not handle hard liqueur. Early on, during my time in, I was under age so I couldn't drink at the bars. This actually worked out well for me. Every Friday night a bunch of us would pile into a car and make the fifty mile drive to Nashville to party. I was always the designated driver for the ride home. Since I was infamous for this service, I always got a free ride to town every Friday. This was especially handy for a guy with no car and no intention of buying one. So it became my goal to get as tasty as possible before we left for town. I would drink as much as possible as fast as possible prior to departure. I would be buzzing good when we arrived and completely sober at last call to drive my drunk buddies back to base. Needless to say, I didn't build a good tolerance this way. When I finally turned 21, I had no idea what my limits were.
Shortly after I was legal to drink in bars, I would find times where I would get completely hammered and hung over and times I was just fine. I was young and stupid so it took a specific event for me to realize that liqueur was the culprit. When I drank beer I was fine and drunken stupidity didn't sneak up on me. The heavy stuff would just kill me.
The event.
Ford was my roommate. He was a pretty cool dude. We picked up some tickets to a Van Halen concert for the weekend in question. It was a general admission venue and we left early. While leaving post we decided to get some beverages. I picked up a bottle of Seagram's 7 (My drink of choice was 7&7 and to this day I have no idea why) and stopped at a 7-11 where I bought a 44oz Big Gulp of 7-Up. I spent the next hour in the car (I wasn't driving) sipping from my 44oz cup. Each sip I took made room for a little more Seagram's until the mixture was pretty much 99.99% alcohol. When we arrived at the exit for the stadium, a line of cars had already formed along the shoulder on the interstate. We took our place in line behind a ford pick-up that had three women sitting in the bench seat. As the line crept along the passengers in the truck would take turns flashing us. Ford and I agreed that it was going to be a very good night and I'm sure he had a good time. As we pulled into the parking lot/field I took time to notice that my 44oz cup was empty as well as the bottle of Seagram's Seven. I had a little buzz going and I felt great.
We herded ourselves into the venue with the rest of the cattle and found our spot in the grass. We decided were close enough to see the expressions on Eddie's face and far enough that we wouldn't get crushed by the masses swarming the stage. It was a good spot and I was feeling waaaaaay good at this point. I sat on the grass as the dusk settled in. I watched the sun go down and enjoyed playing back stage pass (B.S.P.) with Ford while waiting for the bands to fire up. B.S.P. consisted of picking the sluttiest girls out of the crowd and arguing with each other weather they were worthy of meeting the band. When we saw hot ones we would yell out "B.S.P.!" and get strange looks form groups of women. It was good times until the opening band took the stage. This is when the whiskey decided to exact its revenge. I grew increasingly more unsteady and needed to sit down. I complied with my bodies demands and plopped down on my butt.
Sitting down was the last thing I remembered until aroused later my roomie and some dude resembling Hyde from That '70's Show. When they pulled me to my feet, it was evident that VH was in the middle of their set. Ford knew where my next stop needed to be. I must've thrown up for 20 minutes straight. When I finally finished, I ran into ford outside the bathroom. He looked at me with true concern on his face.
"Dude," I yelled over the excessive decibels "I'm heading back to the car! Have a good time!"
He said something back to me but either I didn't hear it or just didn't care. I headed back to the parking lot and left ole Ford to the B.S.P.s and Hyde.
I wandered the sea of cars looking for his little back sports car. By some miracle I managed to find it. It was only then that I realized I didn't have the keys. I wondered (for about a millisecond) if that was what Ford was trying to tell me as I left. My next move was to sit on the ground in front of the car with my back to the grill and my head on the low sloping hood. The cars cool steel was a god send when I turned my cheek to it. I was out like a light.
I remember coming back to consciousness in a haze. The world was spinning, even with my eyes shut. I felt the need to vomit again but knew it was futile because I had nothing left. In the distance, I still heard music and a tiny voice calling my name. unable to coax my eyes open, mostly out of fear of becoming more dizzy, I yelled a reply to Ford who was looking for me. He called my name again asking me where I was. Yelling as loud as my already throbbing head would allow I told him I was at the car. Still not knowing where he was and only vaguely aware of the general direction his voice was coming from, my friend came to reply that I was sleeping on someone else's car.
That was the last thing I remember. I woke up the next morning in my bunk with the most wicked hangover I've ever had. I swear that even my hair was in pain. There was no recollection of anything that happened from the time I realized I was passed out with my head on some strangers car. There was no recollection of getting to Fords ride (ironically a Mitsubishi by the way) or climbing the three flights of stairs at the barracks or stripping down and getting in my bed. I didn't move the rest of the day. I just laid in a semi fetal position trying to coax the ailing-creepy-slimy-rotten-dizzy-painful feeling to go away.
From then on it has been only beer.
Shortly after I was legal to drink in bars, I would find times where I would get completely hammered and hung over and times I was just fine. I was young and stupid so it took a specific event for me to realize that liqueur was the culprit. When I drank beer I was fine and drunken stupidity didn't sneak up on me. The heavy stuff would just kill me.
The event.
Ford was my roommate. He was a pretty cool dude. We picked up some tickets to a Van Halen concert for the weekend in question. It was a general admission venue and we left early. While leaving post we decided to get some beverages. I picked up a bottle of Seagram's 7 (My drink of choice was 7&7 and to this day I have no idea why) and stopped at a 7-11 where I bought a 44oz Big Gulp of 7-Up. I spent the next hour in the car (I wasn't driving) sipping from my 44oz cup. Each sip I took made room for a little more Seagram's until the mixture was pretty much 99.99% alcohol. When we arrived at the exit for the stadium, a line of cars had already formed along the shoulder on the interstate. We took our place in line behind a ford pick-up that had three women sitting in the bench seat. As the line crept along the passengers in the truck would take turns flashing us. Ford and I agreed that it was going to be a very good night and I'm sure he had a good time. As we pulled into the parking lot/field I took time to notice that my 44oz cup was empty as well as the bottle of Seagram's Seven. I had a little buzz going and I felt great.
We herded ourselves into the venue with the rest of the cattle and found our spot in the grass. We decided were close enough to see the expressions on Eddie's face and far enough that we wouldn't get crushed by the masses swarming the stage. It was a good spot and I was feeling waaaaaay good at this point. I sat on the grass as the dusk settled in. I watched the sun go down and enjoyed playing back stage pass (B.S.P.) with Ford while waiting for the bands to fire up. B.S.P. consisted of picking the sluttiest girls out of the crowd and arguing with each other weather they were worthy of meeting the band. When we saw hot ones we would yell out "B.S.P.!" and get strange looks form groups of women. It was good times until the opening band took the stage. This is when the whiskey decided to exact its revenge. I grew increasingly more unsteady and needed to sit down. I complied with my bodies demands and plopped down on my butt.
Sitting down was the last thing I remembered until aroused later my roomie and some dude resembling Hyde from That '70's Show. When they pulled me to my feet, it was evident that VH was in the middle of their set. Ford knew where my next stop needed to be. I must've thrown up for 20 minutes straight. When I finally finished, I ran into ford outside the bathroom. He looked at me with true concern on his face.
"Dude," I yelled over the excessive decibels "I'm heading back to the car! Have a good time!"
He said something back to me but either I didn't hear it or just didn't care. I headed back to the parking lot and left ole Ford to the B.S.P.s and Hyde.
I wandered the sea of cars looking for his little back sports car. By some miracle I managed to find it. It was only then that I realized I didn't have the keys. I wondered (for about a millisecond) if that was what Ford was trying to tell me as I left. My next move was to sit on the ground in front of the car with my back to the grill and my head on the low sloping hood. The cars cool steel was a god send when I turned my cheek to it. I was out like a light.
I remember coming back to consciousness in a haze. The world was spinning, even with my eyes shut. I felt the need to vomit again but knew it was futile because I had nothing left. In the distance, I still heard music and a tiny voice calling my name. unable to coax my eyes open, mostly out of fear of becoming more dizzy, I yelled a reply to Ford who was looking for me. He called my name again asking me where I was. Yelling as loud as my already throbbing head would allow I told him I was at the car. Still not knowing where he was and only vaguely aware of the general direction his voice was coming from, my friend came to reply that I was sleeping on someone else's car.
That was the last thing I remember. I woke up the next morning in my bunk with the most wicked hangover I've ever had. I swear that even my hair was in pain. There was no recollection of anything that happened from the time I realized I was passed out with my head on some strangers car. There was no recollection of getting to Fords ride (ironically a Mitsubishi by the way) or climbing the three flights of stairs at the barracks or stripping down and getting in my bed. I didn't move the rest of the day. I just laid in a semi fetal position trying to coax the ailing-creepy-slimy-rotten-dizzy-painful feeling to go away.
From then on it has been only beer.
posted by Glenn at 6:54 AM
2 Comments:
Eww! I felt sick just reading your post!
i'm with jane, but i think i actually got alcohol poisoning...
i used to drink nothing but beer but now have found it makes me sooooo sleepy that i've moved over to mixed drinks. whee!
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