Return from My Void

Haven't posted for the past few days as I was home in a small, po-dunk college town I spent almost 20 years growing up in. I was there with a friend visiting the parents and doing the only thing there is to do in that crappy town, get tanked.

A bit more background on myself. Since the age of about 3, when I decided first to join the Army, my parents ingrained in me the fear of doing drugs as it might destroy my chances of entering the service. Fortunately, the fear sank in and I never touched the crap. For as we all know, the three things to do in a town that is small and insignificant is: 1) Drink, 2) Drugs 3) Sex....with an arguable 4) Vandalism (but that's a whole separate posting).

Suffice to say, I would usually go out around 9 pm, and start off slow to warm up the ol' blood stream, and usually drink heavier and heavier as the impending last call grew closer and closer. Usually the night is finished out with a shot of some unholy multi-drink concoction that usually either blacks me out, makes my kidneys hurt the next morning, or both.

This visit, I had neither of these ailments as I have recently begun exploring the vast world of beer. I've never been clear as to what the difference was between an ale, stout, etc.etc.etc. But I am well versed in the fact that if you chug a bottle of gin like it's a canteen and you've been out in the desert for a week, you WILL fall out of a second story window because you thought it would be a good idea (yet another post).

In the process of drinking with one friend in particular, I was getting a drink when I turned around to see he had made a friend. A woman who claimed it was her 40th birthday (he is 28 mind you), had bellied up at the table next to him. She was rotund from the apparent love of beer she has (she claimed to be on her 4th pitcher) and had a face like Hitler. I realized my friend needed saving, but not before I had my bit of fun with this newly found awkward moment. In sitting back down, I began immediately talking my friend up about how great of a guy he was and how he just loved conversations with strangers as he found this exciting (totally not true). The jabberwocky-esq woman inched progressively closer amid my friends now hateful glare at me. Before the funfilled event could take a fatal turn, I looked at my cell phone (which was off at the time) and stated that we needed to finish up and head to a different bar as we (actually) had friends waiting for us. No sooner did I say this then my friend calmly said "okay", and POUNDED his long island like the cure for cancer was at the bottom of the glass. Much to the dismay of abhorrent intruder, we left the bar, where I was subsequently half chased to the next bar by my friend of whom I had sicked the woman on. I bought him another long island and he didn't beat me senseless.

My finishing thought is simple. Booze can get you in to some serious pickles. I alone have fallen from a window, urinated on a Post Office, sprinted into a parked car, fallen asleep in a bramble bush, woken up in my own sick with 5 minutes to be to work, made booty calls, and so forth. During my time in military law enforcement, I called it "liquid stupid" as opposed to "liquid courage" because the majority of the time, people were just plain stupid. All this in mind, no preaching about moderation, just this: Booze is delicious, and any hangover you can get up and walk away with is beautiful!