Beers, shooters and mixers. I wonder what is it about alcohol that would make us hug a toilet bowl and swear that we would not drink again, and then do the same thing again the following week. Hangovers, vomitting and cleaning up cars and bedrooms, saying and doing things you don’t really mean, awkward morning-afters with a stranger lying next to you – are all these really fun? ðŸ˜‰
One of my better alcohol related stories occured on NYE 1998-1999. I was in Sydney hanging out at my cousin’s friend’s mansion (it was really huge though I don’t remember much of it, heh). Alcohol was free flowing and before I know it … I was queing up for the toilet close to the countdown. A girl sidled up to me. I smiled or at least I think I did and asked her for a cigarette. She reached down her cleavage and pulled one out. Wow.
Then the countdown came and she gave me a really big hug. After the hug I was still holding on to her, very inappropriately. My arm was hanging down her shoulder and my hand was conveniently somewhere soft and warm. And instinctively my hand moved on its own. I guess someone saw us because the girl was suddenly pulled away from me. I never got her name, not that I would have remembered it.
In hindsight, I was very lucky that the someone who saw us wasn’t the girl’s boyfriend. I would have been roughed up good. Instead I got messed up another way – hanging out in the toilet of a hotel room at the after-party (yeah great idea!), throwing up some more into a plastic bag on the ride home, and more during the night at my uncle’s house and then being nauseous the rest of the next day.
Ah fun times. And I still love to drink. Could this have something to do with the fact that my grandfather started giving me brandy at the age of 5 to help me sleep when I was sick? Ooh yeah.