This is the first in a series of posts suggested by readers in the second Kapgar Lyrical Challenge. Today's title suggested by Bec, whose blog, as of this morning, is apparently under temporary suspension by her hosting company. What did you do now, Bec?
Drunkenness can lead to many a memorable escapade. I know from multiple experiences... my 19th birthday, my 21st birthday, my 25th birthday, several other drunken outings throughout my college years, and one time when I was about three years old.
Well, I guess I should clarify, they were memorable to those around me. My own memories of them? Pretty well shot, to be honest. Pun fully intended.
My 19th birthday involved lots of Rumplemintz. What happened after that? Your guess is as good as mine. My 21st birthday? I remember shots one through eight. That's when they hit me with the Three Wisemen (Jack, Johnny, and Jim, all in one glass). After a few rolfing episodes and my roommate sticking me in the shower and dousing me, I can safely say that the only wise thing about them is to never mix them. Three years old? No clue whatsoever. You'll have to ask my parents.
My 25th birthday, on the other hand, I remember fairly well. It was also my brother's 21st birthday (they fall six days apart) and we decided to take part in a DeKalb, IL, tradition known as "riding the rail." This involved paying ahead of time to receive a punch card that lists about a dozen and a half 20-ounce beers that were to be chugged during a single time period during which the bar was open. Each time you drink, you get a punch on the card. The beers ranged from piss water (Milwaukee's Best) to liquid charcoal (Guinness Extra Stout) and everybody you talked to had a theory as to the best way to consume them with as minimal effect as possible.
They were all full of it.
All you can really do is drink and hope for the best. And, more often than not, the best would elude you completely.
My friends BDub and MadIrishMan (MIM) were in town for the festivities and to take part themselves.
I remember making it through all the beers without a problem. There was just the random trip to the bathroom as holding off on breaking the proverbial seal just wasn't going to happen no matter how hard we tried. Better to just take the time and make the trip.
I also remember leaving the bar to go home with little to no incident at all once all the drinking was said and done. I lived about a half mile from the bar so we walked. At the end of my parking lot, apparently, my brother and MIM had enough of each other and started sparring. BDub and I broke it up and we continued on to the steps leading up to my third-floor apartment.
This is where my memory fails. The rest is just a mad spiral downward.
I don't remembering ascending the staircase. I don't remember entering my apartment. I don't remember Katie helping me to the bathroom (she couldn't go with us because she was already sick with legitimate flu symptoms). I don't remember dry heaving until every blood vessel in my right eye popped. I don't remember being left in the tub of my bathroom with the shower running (what is it with me and showers when I'm drunk?). I don't remember my brother passing out in the fetal position in the papasan chair in my living room. I don't remember MIM passing out in my roommates' bathroom with his back against the door and feet wedged against the toilet thus keeping himself stuck inside and everyone else out. I also don't remember my female roommate coming into my bathroom when all attempts to dislodge MIM failed and she just really needed to go, so she closed the shower curtain between us.
About the only thing I do remember is waking up... and wishing I never even did that.
I was too sick to do anything for the next 24 hours. I could barely move. And my parents as well as Katie's parents were coming out the next day to take us all to dinner as part of a mass family surprise birthday dinner planned by Katie. Great timing, Kev.
Seven and a half years later and I still haven't completely lived it down.