Never being one for taking things too easy – the first time I drank was no exception. This story is just an insight into ongoing struggles, understanding, and coping.
High school. House party. Similar story setting for this type of event for a lot of people. Much earlier than my drug addiction and in the middle of some early success.
It’s a late Friday night in Clifton 2002. Some high school friends and I were hanging out and someone broke into their grandparent’s liquor cabinet it seemed. The liquors were flowing, and the beer cans were cracking. Shitty liquor and beer that is. Like, butt-hole schnapps and whatever is worse than the lowest beers.
After a few hours of hanging out drinking beer, I found myself on a futon in the common room with a beautiful crush I had. She was a bit older and we had tried to hang out a bit, but I was too socially ignorant to be acting properly (some things never change). Just lounging around I casually drank 20 shots of schnapps and Jack Daniels.
Needless to say, I didn’t remember much after laying on her boobs for a little bit.
The next day my friend woke me up on the floor and drove me to my parent’s house. I had a first band practice with a NY straight-edge hardcore band…. sweet… he says facetiously.
On the way to the house, my friend told me that I ended up on the front lawn balled up and really sick. Everyone was too drunk to take me to the hospital, so they kicked me in the stomach a bunch to get me to puke everything out. I was probably crying and yelling and causing a scene.
Not a great look.
Back at band practice, I couldn’t hold my sticks – throwing them around like an angry 5-year-old who wanted gummy bears at Kroger. It would have been embarrassing had I realized it. Thankfully, some of the band members were friends of mine, and they vouched for me to try again some other time. We ended up having some great shows and times together, but the first look was pretty shit.
More than 15 years later I still get into situations that are similar to this in one aspect; the record button turns off. The brown out to black out. Time traveling.
It’s not a good look, in that big amount of time I’ve learned to be a happy drunk and not do stupid things – for the most part. But here is the catch – it only takes one stupid moment to fuck up a huge portion of one’s life. So, I’m working on figuring out where that amount of alcohol to shut me out of memory is, and staying away from it. If it comes to it, I’ll have to get really disciplined about it, but it’s the good thing to do.
Anyone else going/went through this type of thing? I’d love to talk about strategy. Please feel free to drop a line.
6 thoughts on “Punk Drunk”
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