This past week I really let myself off the leash to party it up. One of my best friends has gone away to Thailand for the next 2 months, so we had to have an awesome going away bash to send her off with fond memories to come back to. To Joce-Force and Harry, I hope you have a truly amazing time! I’ll be reading your blog and keeping up with your adventures. I’ll be living through you vicariously for the next two months, dreaming of the day that I’m liberated from my working stiff regime.
My usual humdrum week dragged a little longer because of the anticipation of Friday night. When quitting time rolled around, I hopped a bus and headed downtown.
We were going to pre-drink and then go to the bar for some dancing and antics as usual. The party was just getting started when I rolled in. I cracked a brew and started to mingle. I got to see some awesome people that I haven’t seen a couple of months and catch up on what’s new in their lives.
I love catching up with friends because it takes me out of my everyday struggle with ambitious reality and shifts my focus to the world around me. I’ve cultivated some real friendship gems over the past seven years. One of my friends is a 2nd grade teacher, and she’s got some great stories. Another of my bests is in India right now, so he wasn’t there but he was missed. Also, the girl from whom I got my first fake ID was there! How awesome is that?
I took charge of the camera, since it is my main duty at all social gatherings, and made sure that Joce had some really excellent photos from her party to remember us by. As well as one really choice video of us just being us. We shot celebratory pink champagne, chugged back our drinks, and eventually got everyone squashed into the cabs so we could take this party on the road.
There was one major snag in the night that we didn’t account for: I didn’t get into the bar.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been denied entrance to the bar. Kicked out plenty of times yes, but outright denied? The last time that happened I think I was still underage and using a fake ID. I probably shouldn’t have been so forthright with the bouncer. When he asked if I’d been drinking I said “of course”. And when he asked how many drinks I had, I carefully calculated what I considered to be an acceptably low number for myself. “Five beers,” I answered him with a veteran boozehound’s confidence.
Apparently, that didn’t go over too well. He told me to “step aside” and when asked why said he “had his reasons”. Pffft! Maybe he didn’t believe that I’d only had five beers, but I didn’t believe him to be capable of formulating a skeptical thought what with the Tarzan-like set of his brow. An opinion that I kindly informed him of…
That sealed the deal, I definitely wasn’t getting into that bar tonight. The cougar bar across the street though, they pretty much rolled out the red carpet to get me in their door! I made sure to shout this across the street to the asshole who deigned to play God with my drunken fate just for good measure. My friend had already gone inside the bar that denied me, but didn’t get the texts that I’d shuffled into the first bar that would have me. So I downed a couple more drinks, made the best of it, and then hopped a bus home.
When I got home this is what happened:
I kicked off my socks because I hate socks, and passed out on the floor fully clothed. This is pretty much normal for me. Sometimes I’m lucky enough to make it to the bedroom. Other times, just having something solid beneath me will do. That is my kitten, Harvey. He’s circling my head, stymied by this behaviour. And of course that is his best friend, Cody, the stuffed cat he carts around the house in a companionable manner.
Needless to say, I woke up the next morning nursing an incredibly bad hangover. My brain felt like it was trying to ooze out my ears in an attempt to escape the pressure cooker that was my skull. The inside of my mouth had turned to sandpaper. My throat pure raw pain. I crawled into the kitchen and poured myself an enormous glass of water.
I added three ice cubes to the glass and poured the heavenly elixir of life over top of them. I chugged back a good portion of the water, and then set the glass down on the counter. I regarded the glass gratefully, and noticed something awesome:
The ice cubes had frozen together in a circular formation at the top of the glass. And they remained above the water level for a while before melting down. Usually the ice cubes are stacked because of how narrow this glass is and because I put them in individually. But on this day, I am certain that they banded together to ensure that I would overcome this behemoth hangover. These cubes defied their “norm” to unite as one magnificent mega-cube!
This gargantuan effort on their part was inspiring. The ice cubes were not going to fall into their usual pattern of stacking themselves neatly in the glass. And I wasn’t going to fall into my usual pattern of riding out my hangover moaning on the couch in my sweatpants.
Instead I was decidedly productive! I cleaned my apartment, organized my closet, and put on real pants! My hangover lingered, but I powered through it. The ice cubes working together were weirdly motivating for me. I can’t even imagine what I might have accomplished had Darth Vader been burned into my grilled cheese instead…