OK, for years now, you guys have been getting drunk so I don’t have to. It’s time I stepped up to the plate and did my part.
Yesterday, Dave and I took my mom to a local fair, where we enjoyed beautiful weather, greasy food, and that delicious sense of summery carefree laziness. All conditions were go. I decided to end my 10-year dry spell and have a brewski. (Are they still calling it that?)
The story of why I quit drinking is a boring one. (But the stories of my drinking? Totally hilarious and mortifying!)
Dave is thrilled that I’m having a beer and happily fetches me a foamy Bud. I take a sip, and I’m violently transported to the hallway of my college dorm. Yes, I’ve drunk many a beer since college, but there’s something about drinking out of a plastic cup while surrounded by a bunch of freaks that takes me right back to those keggers of yore.
My second sip reminds me that beer sucks. It really doesn’t taste that great. But I am enjoying the almost instant buzz. By the third sip . . .
. . . I’m drunk! And suddenly the freaks all look beautiful, even that scary Harley guy over there. I love you, Scary Harley Guy! I’d forgotten that when I’m drunk I fall in love with everyone. Especially the men. OK, only the men. Only the good-looking men. Why have I never noticed how many good-looking men there are in this world! I want them all! Luckily, Dave is the best, so I just bump into him affectionately as we walk along. He knows me too well, tho, and when I stop to watch a guy chainsawing a stump into a Cubs logo, he says, “If you love that guy so much, why don’t you MARRY him?” The fact that the chainsaw guy is a scrawny burnout wearing a trucker hat deters neither of us.
Food tastes better when you’re drunk. And, by “drunk” I mean I’ve had one and one-quarter plastic cups of beer. I liberally pump ketchup on my fries only to be told by the counter guy that that red stuff is actually pizza sauce. It seems very important that I pretend to this total stranger that I ALWAYS eat my fries with pizza sauce.
I’m not the only one having a problem with the condiments. Dave tells me that the relish came in a plastic squeeze-bottle with a tiny opening, so his poor bratwurst is dressed only in watery green juice. “No pickle pieces came out.” As we leave the food tent, he makes me look at the relish bottle. “This is the relish of which I spoke,” he said solemnly.
I’m full of grease, which has soaked up all the beer and all the buzz. What remains is the urgent need to pee. Was it only an hour ago that I was joking merrily with my mom about avoiding the Port-a-Johns at all cost? What was once a hilarious joke is now a sobering reality. I gotta go. Dave does too, but he refuses to use the john next to mine (?) I assume the hover position, but damn. My quads aren’t as strong as they used to be. My quivering legs admit defeat and slowly lower until my butt touches the very wet seat.
After rifling furiously through my purse for my hand sanitizer (which I intend to use as a butt sanitizer—YES! right there in front of everyone!), I give up and decide to accept that I have contracted a butt virus that will just have to wait until I get home and can soak it in boiling bleach.
Beer, food, butt virus . . . let the downward spiral begin. I start to feel tired and cranky. Luckily, my mood picks up when the main band comes on. It’s American English! But even the faux Liverpudlian accents can’t bring me out of my torpor. The woman in front of me is dancing stupidly and I can only glower at her lime-colored flip-flops. I’m so full and crabby, I couldn’t eat a funnel cake even if I’d been able to use my hand sanitizer.
But it was a lovely evening. I don’t regret my wild drunken spree, although I can’t say the hour-long buzz was worth the ensuing black mood. As I sulked in the car on the way home, Dave imparted these words of wisdom: “When I drink, I try to time it so that when the dramatic tiredness sets in, I’m ready to go to bed anyway.”
Good advice, Dave. In 10 years, when I have another beer, that’s what I’ll do.
You’ll find nary a teetotaler at humor blogs