Don't drink random stuff... Please
Posted by Dalif on 24/10/2008 at 07:25
Filed Under: Not Quite IRL
Just found this entry in my drafts here on dalif.com. Thought I had published this a long time ago. Anyway, for your reading pleasure, here is the unabridged story conveniently titled:
"I learned a lesson over the weekend."
Friday at work, my mate (whom I've known since kindergarten, went to
school with and worked with several different places) asked me if I
wanted to come out for a few beers at night. Another mate from school
was throwing a party at his dorm, and he was allowed to invite people
from outside, apparently. I thought wtf, and agreed. Don't usually say
no to an evening out with beers and what have we. Other people from the
hotel we worked at back then were coming as well. And the dorms always
have extremely cheap beer and alcohol. All in all, we were in for a
great night. My mate and I go (we even live close to one another) by
bus, and we arrive safely at the party, and immediately hit the bar.
Beer galore. I'm content. A few old friends make surprise appearances,
and it's good to talk to them all again. A few of the "new" people at
the hotel, people who started after I stopped there, are at the party
as well. I'm invited over to sit with them, to talk, but I decline
because I'm an arrogant sumbitch, and I can't be arsed learning their
names nor talking to them about a hotel I couldn't give a fuck about
anymore. And people in the hotelbusiness have a hard time talking about
anything else than the hotel business.
So as the night
progresses, so does that buzz I'm getting on. Seeing as I'm a pretty
big dude, it usually takes a lot to get me drunk, tipsy or any
denomination. And tonight wasn't an exception. 9 glasses of beer, and I
was feeling a slight buzz. So I'm buying a new round, and while I'm at
the bar, I notice a shotglass on the counter. I'm waiting for the
bartender to make my draft beer, so I look around for a possible owner.
Nobody is looking remotely connected to the shot, so I thought wtf. I
grab the shot, and bring it over to a girl from the hotel. Nice girl
too. I hand her her beer, and take a sip of my own. "Lookee, I got
myself a free shot" says I, with a smug wink, and I throw it back. It
tastes like fucking lampoil. I make a grimace fitting for Boris
Karloff. "What was it" she asks, to which I can only reply with 'no
clue'. And that was basically a turning point in the evening. Went
downhill from there on out. I didn't buy more drink, as I was feeling
like shit from that shot. Anyway, party is pretty much over, and we
decide to leave. My mate and I finally manage to hail a cab, and I jump
in the back. I'm starting to feel REALLY drunk, as in not even able to
focus on my own hands. Everything is blurry. Even voices are blurry. We
jump into the cab, and of course it's a reckless driver. You know the
kind who speeds up fast and then slams breaks at lights. Didn't help my
situation. When we're finally at out destination, I barge out of the
taxi. I need fresh air. My mate exits, and we enter a local restaurant
(the fast food kind that are open til 5am), and sit down. I'm almost
unable to speak at this point, and I quickly excuse myself to go
outside. I wander aimlessly around for a few minutes, trying to find a
deserted area, as I sense things are going to come back up soon. And so
they do.
After disposing of the contenst of my stomach, I enter the restaurant again, sit down and get my food. I'm not really hungry, and only eat a little bit of it. Things are still blurry and obscure, and my friend keep yammering on about things I can't focus on at all. Finally weget up to take off, and I just feel like everything is spinning and looking well blurred. not many thoughts run through my head at this point. All I really know is, I need to get the fuck home and into bed and just stay very still. I quickly dispatch my friend off home, and make my way towards my apartment. My vision is starting to clear up a bit as I walk home. It's only a 5 minute walk, but the fresh air does me well. I get home, get into bed, and pull over my garbage can, just in time to puke violently in it. As I lay down and feel the room starting to spin with ever blink of the eyes, I curse whatever reason for my condition to hell.
This goes on well through the night. Puking a bit, then sleeping a bit. I finally manage to get a few consecutive hours of sleep. When I wake up tho, even before I open my eyes, I feel the worst hangover in existence. I mean, I've been hung over in many different ways, but this one took the cake. Just opening my eyes made me feel like somebody was furiously banging my head with a hammer. I tried to get up, but realized it'd take a lot more effort than just trying. My head hurt so bad. After a few attempts, I got into a sitting position. My head thumped bigtime. Struggling to my feet, I must have looked like a handicapped or something. Somehow I managed to get my pants on and socks, a shirt and my shoes. It was a brisk November day or something similarly cold, and I figured a walk outside might clear my still fuzzy mind. Hammers were pounding away in my brain like it was nobody's business. Outside, the air both did me well, and made me nauseous. I felt like vomiting every 20 steps, and everytime my stomach convulsed a bit, my head hurt like fuck. And the pain in my head made me feel the nausea all the more. It was a bad circle.
I guess I puked a few times behind a bush or a park bench, as I traversed the empty streets, passing a few hardcore kids on a playground with frozen up parents looking like they would really rather be home in bed. After what must have been 90 minutes of aimlessly walking in circles in almost subzero temperatures, with nothing but a t-shirt and a vest to cover my torso, I figured going home was the best thing for me to do. My stomach had settled for just feeling like shit, and my headache was down to one hammer, merrily chipping away at the small of my brain. I didn't feel like a million dollarinos, that's for damned sure. I suspect I spent the rest of the day at the computer, pondering just what the fuck that shotglass actually contained. It was one of the less cool moments of my life, and I think I can safely say I learned my lesson that night. Free doesn't always mean better. If you see a random shotglass in a random bar and you really want to chug it down. For the love of everything that you hold dear... don't. Don't be a cheapass and buy your own booze straight from the bottle. Lord knows what kind of shit people put in drinks these days.



louiseaaen Says
Saturday, November 8. 2008 at 12:05 (Reply)
Dalif Replied
Thursday, December 4. 2008 at 06:27 (Link) (Reply)