Man, oh man. Where to begin with this one?
Fun fact about me: I love liquor. Especially the hard stuff. Jägermeister, Captain Morgan, Jim Beam, Powers, and so on. I don't mind beer, but it has to be the good stuff. Blue Moon, Shock Top, Dos Equis, Newcastle, and such. As you can tell, I've been drinking quite a bit to be able to tell you all of this information. The irony of it all is that I have a very low tolerance for alcoholic beverages. This is so because I really don't drink that often. But I wish I could drink more. Like a lot. I just don't have enough free time to build up a tolerance to alcohol. And don't worry, I'm not an alcoholic...although, because I do recognize that I enjoy imbibing, does that make me an alcoholic?
Moving on, now that I think of it, my experience as a drunk also happened to occur immediately after the night I met the girl at the masquerade. After the incident, we (friends and I) decided to meet up with people who were at Bar Sinister, an underground gothic bar/club out in Hollywood. It was on the way over there that I had too much to drink and I didn't realize it until I stumbled out of my friend's car.
You see, my friends, getting drunk just sneaks up on you. I was so certain that I had reasonably spaced out my portions of alcohol (a serving of whiskey every 15 minutes, with water and food in between servings), but that wasn't the case. In fact, I was having a serving of whiskey every 5 minutes, and in 15 minutes, I had enough alcohol in my system for two people. So by the time we got to Bar Sinister, I was gone (drunk).
My experience as a drunk was pretty much existential. It felt like an out-of-body experience. My body lost all control of movement, struggling simply to maintain balance. Time and space just went out the window for me. My friend and I spent a good 15 minutes wrestling in the parking to help me become acclimated to the sensations that I was feeling and help me regain some hand-eye coordination. Of course, that 15-minute training session felt like it had gone on for an hour, but it was a much needed 15 minutes. I regained some control of my body and after that, it was an uphill battle to regain complete control.
I spent the next 2 hours at Bar Sinister in a simultaneous state of euphoria and anxiety. While I relished the sensations of what the alcohol was doing to me: the misplaced courage to dance and be social and the feeling of weightlessness. I was also frantically pacing about the perimeter within club, as well as ascending and descending the single flight of stairs that were strangely there, all the while obsessively retracing my steps and eyeing my wristwatch, trying not to lost track of time. I'm certain I can across as a madman to some, while being normal with other people.
In reflection, I don't ever want to cross that line again of being buzzed and being flat-out drunk. I found it to be an unpleasant experience altogether, despite doing my best to make the most of it. It's just not for me, plain and simple.
Next post will be about why listening to Coldplay is not gay...Until next time!
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