Shameful

Is this what a hangover feels like?

My head isn't necessarily pounding, but it hurts.  Moreover, I have a huge pit in my stomach.  They say that a cure for a hangover is a lot of shitty food, like Taco Bell or Doritos.  I have neither.  Instead I've got this muffin, possibly blueberry, that's been sitting around waiting to be eaten.  Might as well wash that down with some tropical punch I had not touched in several days, and, what the hell, I think enough time has passed since I drank all that beer to get around to taking my allergy pill.  Man, you leave all the stuff you wanted to take with you for a coffee and a trip your late-night spot as you go home and sleep that you have to walk out at 3 in the morning and feel all the early-morning pollen coming up your nose.

I am doing all of this now because I drank a lot this evening.  I have done this, specifically drink five beers, once before, namely this particular occasion last year.  I was not drunk last year.  No, that's bullshit: I was drunk last year, but not like this year.  This year I was a lot worse, and scary for me as the effects of the alcohol were taking hold, nothing like I have felt before.

If I were observing myself I would think, "That guy's drunk."  All the signs I did in order to have control of myself I did: Steadying myself along walls, soon standing next to them, eating the food until there was none, and then, finally, sitting down.  It was no use.  I really, really thought the Wendy's I had for lunch would kind of set the stage for the beer I would drink last night.  Since I was not hungry, that meant there was still food in my stomach, so there would be enough to sop up the alcohol.  How stupid of me.

My sobriety nosedived as soon as the party was over and, um, we were sent home.  A girl I think was checking on me to make sure I was OK.  Then a guy working the party, as he took my wristband, asked if I had a ride home.  I told him -- and in retrospect I really am ashamed I did -- that I was going to sleep it off in my car.  No dice, he says; if the cops come and see me do that, it's still a DUI.  That did not stop me from trying to take a quick nap, but I was worried that such a thing would happen; after all, the police know where a brewery is.  So after I heard the car ahead and behind me leave, I went around, turned on the car, and drove off.  I think I was the next-to-last person to leave.

I will say that I got home without incident.  Police around the area are stepping up enforcement this weekend, but I didn't see one.  Nor did I run into any telephone poles, thank God.  But I knew I was too fucking drunk to do anything but get back home as safe as possible -- no stripclubs, no coffee, no late-night Italian, just home.

Once I did get home I went upstairs, changed real quick, and tried to go to sleep.  Well, I couldn't, although I felt really, really awful.  What sometimes helps was turning on the TV, and the Pacers-Knicks game was on, so I did that and hoped I would fall asleep with the beautiful patter of Mike Breen and Jeff Van Gundy.  After several minutes, it worked.  Conked off a bit past 9, woke up a bit after 3.

I will also say this: I remember just about everything.  People say when they're drunk they don't remember anything.  I do remember everything, and that's a good thing.  I remember slowly losing control of my senses and not feeling good about it.  And when I got into bed and felt like I was rolling downward into the middle of it I remember I was too dizzy to be doing anything, and that I was stupid to even think I could stay out after that.  I remember I have to reschedule all of things I planned on doing last night, specifically going to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Edition) for the first time in weeks and eating at My Favorite Late-Night Italian Place for the first time in months.  Finally, I remember feeling like I wanted to vomit all over the bed, which is bad, because since my parents are away I have slept in my sister's bigger, quieter, cooler bedroom, and I would have to clean up a lot of shit if I did that.

How did I end up this way?  I grew up fearing beer because of what it would do to me.  Shit, I just about pissed my pants the first time I went to a frat party and some stranger just rolled out a can to me.  My first taste of alcohol, I think, was champagne out in Los Angeles when I couldn't come home for Thanksgiving.  But now I've done this.  And people do this all the time, and like to do it all the time?

So no, I'm done with getting drunk.  Because of last night, and the hangover I'm still suffering from, I cannot and will not do this shit again.  And I hope to Buddha and God that I never put myself in this position ever again.