Hammered

My love affair with alcohol is over. At least until the England v. Paraguay soccer match next Saturday.

Last night I got more spectacularly drunk than anyone has a right to get. It started out innocently enough - a work happy hour at Morton's steakhouse. I was drinking $15 glasses of Petite Syrah that my employer was paying for. Civilized, right? I was going to go home after 2 glasses, but my work friend P. persuaded me to have one more on the basis that we'd go out to eat in order to soak up the extra alcohol. After that, I only have snippets of memory. Far too much of the evening is a complete blank. We never did eat, I think mostly because P. had had plenty of Morton's free steak sandwiches that they give out to bar patrons, and which I as the resident vegetarian don't eat. I remember making P. hold my hand on the way to bar #2 because I was already too drunk to walk straight. I remember ditching P. at the bar and staggering, nay weaving, back to work. God knows what I said to the security guard to get in to the building. P. found me in the kitchen at work, asleep at one of the tables. I then threw up in the sink. He drove me home, even though he was hammered too. I woke up this morning when my alarm went off at 6.30 to a bowl that I'd placed by the bed in case I threw up again, a 3/4's drunk glass of water which was actually on a coaster, and a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom.

Deciding I had too much to do today to wait for P. to come and take me to work to get my car, I decided to walk. It's 5 miles. It's Florida in the summer. Yes, I'm clearly still drunk for thinking that was a good idea, but I thought I would sober up on the way. And I wanted to check if we'd managed to clean up the puke from the kitchen sink. It took me 2 sweaty hours because I was walking so slowly. But I did reward myself by getting a diet Coke and a Milky Way (or a Mars Bar as my English self prefers to think of it) at the 7-11 which is at the half way point. Man, I never knew how busy 7-11 could be at 7.50am! It was packed with hispanic dudes getting their breakfast on their way to work - the smell of the coffee and the various meat-filled hot breakfast sandwiches they were buying almost made me vomit again.

And now I have to decide if I can possibly get in the car and try to function. I think one more diet Coke is in order before I face that...