To be young! I remember my first beer...

Last night, however, it seems I didn't remember it soon enough. The simplest of lessons are destined to be repeated. When my wife and I were a fresh young couple we were going to a local bar in Uptown to see a coworker play with her band. As I was still in college and had very little money to spend at the bar I decided it would be a good idea to get my buzz on before leaving home. The 4 beers in the fridge went down easily in 15 minutes time and we were off to the scene. At the bar I sipped down one Long Island and decided it would be best if I switched to water for the rest of the evening. The memories that remain with me to this day involved imbibing pitchers upon pitchers of water and standing at the urinal for what seemed most of the night, as no amount of water could quench my everlasting thirst. This in turn led to the penning of the novel 'The Yellow River' under the assumed identity I.P. Constantly. Though the quantity of alcohol was bearable the rate of its induction into my body interrupted my normal ability to incorporate any other liquid. The next day I lumbered into the office in obvious discomfort and assumed the fetal position on the floor amidst the filing cabinets. The women of the office took pity upon my stupid ass, bless their hearts, and put me on a couch with some aspirin in an abandoned room to sleep off my hangover. And hence the lesson of pacing oneself was learned. Or so I thought...

Our next door neighbors held a poker tournament last evening to raise funds for the American Cancer Society as they are participating in the Relay For Life. I had been a little crabby all afternoon [keep your comment to yourself dear] and was not particularly keen to go spend time with a bunch of guys I didn't know very well, but promises had been made and it was all for a good cause. So with all the good energy I could muster I headed over to begin the evening. Several people were already there and we were instructed that for one low price the food and drinks would be served all evening, while all the proceeds were going to the fund. What could possibly be wrong with that? To loosen up I started with a beer and then I noticed the brats! Mmmm, gots to have me one of those little pieces of grilled heaven. I managed to finish the brat up just in time to start the game. We all, 9 of us, got our pretty little stacks of chips and hit the tables at a fevered pitch. Those of you experienced in poker are probably used to the rush of nerves you can get when you get stuck into a really substantial pot. Well, I had a couple of those early, one that I lost and one that I won. I think it's time to soothe the nerves a bit with a well-liked friend of mine, John Jameson. A little ice from the beer tub and a smooth shot of Irish Whiskey really can take the edge off. Over the next hour I had just two more of these until I was feeling pretty good, and then I had to break the damn. This I calculate was the turning point in the evening for me. Before returning to the table I grabbed a water from the fridge and then grabbed my seat. It was only then I noticed that my pleasant stupor was slipping a little into uncomfortable territory. One or two hot and dizzy flashes and everything seemed to come back into focus for me, but nevertheless I remained on the edge for a while. It was a couple more waters, and couple more hours, and several more trips to the men's room before the party broke up and I headed home. Ultimately, I felt I had a pretty good time. It was actually a very entertaining way to donate $50 to a good charity.

Once home I was able to let down the defenses so to speak. I'm drunk and not only now do I know it, but I can act it! I'm glad to say that I'm a happy drunk so no one really has to suffer much. I must've recounted loudly the stories we heard about the next door neighbor's ball sac as they really were worth telling twice before I shuffled off to the bathroom yet again, perhaps for the lucky 13th time, for this was indeed the last trip. There's nothing truly grotesque to tell [I know you were bracing for it!], but in truth I simply spent the next few hours curled upon the cool, soothing tile floor next to the bathtub. It's amazing how comforting that spot can be! Easy access to the water supply and more drains than bodily outlets.

A very late morning, a lot of water, and a really good brunch at MacTavish's have me back on my feet. The parallels in these experiences are important and help me recognize that I can relive mistakes even 15 years later. I hope it will be at least another decade and a half before I have to write about this again.