August 2, 2002
Last weekend was my
30th birthday party. We played it up Hawaiian style, complete
with a lethal concoction called "aloha punch." Seriously,
each batch had a full 1.75-liter bottle of rum in it. (The recipe only
called for 1.5 liters, I think, but after a few coconuts full, our very
own Norm Nevins and I decided to just add the rest.)
Mom and Dad, yall
can stop reading now.
Ive been less
lucid while drinking. Ive vomited more. But something about Saturday
nights inebriation made it one of the worst of my life. Maybe
its the fact that the next morning, I vomited hard enough to burst
a blood vessel in my right eye. So now I have a charming red blood-slick
next to the green iris. Its not a flattering color combination.
And from a distance, it kinda looks like Im cross-eyed.
Im trying to wear
sunglasses as often as possible, but thats sort of frowned on
in the office. Lucky for me, theres no actual eye damage, and
I should look normal again in just a few days.
Okay, in honor of High
Fidelity, my top five worst drunks list:
5. Margarita Madness:
So, a bunch of us are drinking pitchers of margaritas in the courtyard
of El Rey del Sol (downtown Manhattan). It begins to rain. The obvious
solution? Grab a pitcher in each hand, get under the awning and keep
drinking. The next mornings splitting headache was remedied
by greasy steak and eggs at a New Jersey diner.
4. The Tequila Incident:
Think this was sophomore or junior year in college. I was drinking
Everclear when a fellow college-newspaper guy revealed that hed
never done tequila shots. Whuh? Well, of course I had to show him
the ropes. Big mistake. A few shots later, the girl Id been
hoping to impress arrived. I went outside to greet her and
vomited (into the grass, thank Heaven). It took years before I could
drink tequila again in any form.
3. Saying Goodbye:
When I moved from New York to Chicago, the folks at the dot-com decided
to throw a goodbye party. (This was actually the first of two goodbye
parties the second was far less eventful.) This prompted most
everybody there to buy me dirty vodka martinis, a sort of signature
drink. Somehow, I managed to get across midtown Manhattan to the ferry,
and across to Weehawken.
My brain was apparently
still cognizant enough for me not to try and drive home. I wound up
taking a cab, a fairly expensive alternative (especially considering
I had to cab back to the ferry the next day to get my truck). On arriving
at home, I vomited nothing but vodka and olives. Oddly enough, I still
love martinis but the olives make me gag.
2. Saturday night:
Really. Just for the fact that I vomited so hard I burst a blood vessel.
I mean, come on.
1. College Daze: Worst
drunk ever. I just remember going to a house party with some
friends. By all accounts, I chugged down close to a dozen cups of
beer. I quickly became incoherent and, on returning to the dorm, threw
up on pretty much every available surface. My roommate, bless his
heart, stripped the now-soiled sheets from my bed and put them into
my closet. (Not a fun thing to find the next day.) I didnt notice
I had passed out.
The next day, he and
a friend dragged me to a park for a picnic. I sat, scowling and in pain,
on a blanket in the cruel, cruel sunshine.
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