Drunkenness Rating: 1/5th of Vodka

Now, anyone that knows me today knows that I'm a beer drinker. There are a few reasons why I no longer drink hard liquor, and this is one of them.

I was headed out pretty late one Saturday night, to a party that a friend, Scott, was throwing. It was already past 11 PM, and by the time I showed up, all the beer was gone. I asked Scott what had happened, and he said they didn't anticipate going through it so quickly. He said the party was still going on, but it was 'bring your own' since his keg had run out. Not to be dissuaded, I ran back to my apartment and grabbed a fifth of vodka and a 20 oz. Dr. Pepper.

Now when I say a fifth of vodka, I don't mean Smirnoff or Absolut, or even Stoli. We are talking Aristocrat. At $6 a bottle, this shit barely qualified as vodka. Anyone who has ever had Aristocrat will typically shudder a bit at the mere mention of the name. I was on a college budget however, and I had to make due with what I could afford.

So, I hit this party pretty hard. Despite being out of beer, it didn't start to break up until around 2:30 the next morning. Most people there were already in a good mood, and quite a few people had their own little stashes of alcohol, so there was plenty of fun left to be had. By the time I left the party, I had completely finished my fifth of vodka, and was half-way through the Dr. Pepper that I was using as a chaser. I stumbled home, but stopped off by Jen and Marnette's apartment across the street. Their light was still on, so I knocked on their back door. That is the last thing I remember from that night.

The next morning, I woke up in my own bed. I was fully clothed, but half my bed and my floor were covered in vomit. Also, my jaw felt like it was broken, and the whole room smelled like rancid parmesan cheese. I tried to piece together what had happened while I cleaned up myself, the floor, and all my bedding. I ultimately ended up throwing away some of the bedding and the clothes that I had slept in. After a few hours of drinking water, the room finally stopped spinning and I reached for the telephone.

Jennifer answered, and I very meekly asked, "Um, did I fall down or anything while I was over there last night." She dropped the phone and all I could hear was the ensuing laughter. She told Marnette what I had asked, and they both giggled and laughed for about 10 minutes. They never did come back to the phone, so I hung up and walked across the street to speak with them face to face. The described the previous night's festivities, and my memory started to gradually return.

The previous night, Marnette had let me in, and poured me onto the couch. They were having a late movie night, and were busy making home-made pizza between reels. (Well, tapes actually, but reels sounds so much better.) After a few minutes rest, I got up and stumbled into the kitchen to make small talk with Jennifer. She was just taking their pizza out of the oven. She grabbed some napkins and plates and went out into the living room to start their next movie. Somehow, I had managed to slip and fall in their kitchen, hitting my chin on the counter. I got up, and still dazed from the blow, stumbled through the kitchen doorway. I didn't quite make it, and tried to catch myself by grabbing onto the side of the door frame. Since I only grabbed one side of the doorway and was off balance to begin with, I ended up swinging around and smacking my face against the wall. In pain, I slid down the wall and ended up in a heap on their dining room floor.

Witnessing all this from the living room, Jen and Marnette helped me onto the couch and proceeded to feed me pizza in a vain attempt to sober me up. I passed out for about an hour while they continued watching their movie. Eventually they got sick of me and threw me out. My apartment was just across the parking lot, so they gave me a good shove in that direction and closed the door. I'm not sure how, but I made it home and into my own bed.

I learned a few lessons from that evening, and I rarely drink liquor anymore. I've also slowed down quite a bit, and rarely if ever, drink to excess. Still, I wouldn't trade the memories for anything.