(Reminiscing) I remember when I could drink and drink and drink and reach that perfect point of pure euphoria-with no repercussions.
Well, times, they-are-a-changing.
I went to a hockey game this week, which involved your typical pre-game tail gate. The food was sizzling and the beer was flowing. Life was good. I had consumed 2 beers prior to entry into the rink, where I went on to purchase another cold one. I was feeling great, screaming my heart out (which I don’t get to do as much as I would like), chatting, laughing, blah, blah blah. At this point, my beer count was only 3, and since I wasn’t the DD, and the game was going into over-time, like most, I got up and purchased another beer. Now I am not a *small* person. Three beers shouldn’t put someone like me “over the edge.” I had trained myself in the UK to be able to drink at least 4-5 of the Queen’s pints, which for me, was completely respectable. However, once I took a sip of #4, my body went into a slight convulsion. I quickly pawned the beer off to some other, much willing recipient and left it at that. My team won the game (whoo hoo!), and after some more congregating we were on our way home. That turned out to be the longest car ride of my life as my body slowly started to destroy itself from the inside out (well, that is what it felt like at any rate). I did manage to make it home, but quickly set up camp in the bathroom were I sweated out my convulsions and the emptying out of my stomach.
More than anything, I am upset that my body can no longer tolerate what I once so enjoyed. I did have an incident back in college, where I can honestly say I drank way too much, as I was left incapacitated (and by incapacitated, I mean unconcious) for over 48 h after. I have never been the same since, but I am sorry body, that was years ago. Get over it.
The sad part is as well, that I FEEL hung over. I shouldn’t have the pain without the glory of the drunkenness that precedes it. Stupid body.