So. I'm not actually a big drinker, and by "not a big drinker" I mean I rarely drink. As much as I do kind of like the feeling of a little buzz, I just don't enjoy the taste and feeling of alcohol in my mouth. Also, I haven't had a hangover since college and I am fine with keeping that record forever.
But, Saturday was Pal's birthday and he is just one of those people who likes a good birthday celebration. So, this year, since Pal's husband passed away last fall, Pal's friends (myself included) have been paying him some extra attention. Pal's good friend (work wife, maybe?) was hosting a birthday party for Pal at Pal's place and I got invited and naturally went. To make a long story short, there were a bunch of friends there, the work wife made an incredibly strong "signature drink", there was a ton of good food, a lot of pal's neighbors came by and with 90 minutes just about everyone (except me, who coddled the signature drink) was completely plastered. But it was more than just a drinking environment, it was almost as if the party was for the adult beverages instead of for Pal. I just don't get that relationship with booze. Now, Pal is the kind of drinker who does not know when to say when. He's been like that always and when we lived together I just used to go to bed when he got to a certain level of drunk, which usually around midnight, so it worked out just fine. But this time I had to wait it out to get the neighbors back to their houses first. And apparently the other friends (we were all staying the night) are also the type who don't know when to say when.
In the end, one lady guest was so drunk she began to weep (why??), everyone was slurring, making emphatic hand gestures while spewing nonsensical discombobulated yet passionate heart felt garbage out their mouths. No bottle of anything went unopened. So, in addition to the signature vodka drink there was Prosecco, red wine and champagne. Someone had a pot vape that got some heavy use.
There was vomiting.
Vomiting.
eeewwwww.
I don't know folks. Maybe I'm just a total dud but I would way rather do a million other things than drink until I vomit. Everyone who stayed over (except me) was still drunk the next morning. And here is the thing. They were all so stinking drunk that no one had any idea that I went through the evening with a light buzz early on but stone cold sober as son as I saw the rest of them deteriorating. Someone had to keep a level head, right? What if there was an emergency? Like someone cut a finger off slicing limes or tripped and busted their head open? I would have been able to drive to the emergency room. Luckily no one got hurt and I didn't have to be a hero but I was prepared.
The next morning the person who had a breathalyzer installed in his car couldn't drive to go get some breakfast. His fear was that his parole officer would find out if he even tried to see what his blood alcohol levels were (he knew they were elevated) and there would be consequences.
Parole officer.
I was happy to leave. I liked these folks pre-drunk and then hungover. But the in between was a little frightening.
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