Gerry mentioned some stuff to try, which he once drank to excess: "lemme tell you, the guys I was with were impressed when I got up at daybreak cheerful as a rooster with ten hens, built a fire and started coffee and breakfast. "
I have a story.
For several years a friend and I shared a space at the Tulsa Highland Gathering, he with his travelling bookstore, me with my forgings(I once actually told a lady "Come up and see my forgings"; worth it for the look on her face). One year he had his girlfriend along and we got a room in the motel to split. Friday evening was the pre-Gathering party for vendors and staff, booze and munchies. I'd recently heard of Famous Grouse scotch, and lo! and behold, they had a jug at the bar. So I put some cash in the jar and got a cup(those 8oz. plastic cups; no, it wasn't full), put some munchies on a plate and sat.
Not bad whiskey. I finished it, and got some more. Friend had some, finished it, brought us each back a cup. Etc. Finally he came back with two cups and informed me that was the last of it, dammit. By this point I was three sheets to a strong wind and hungry, and asked him if there was a place nearby with real food as the chips & such just weren't cutting it. Setting up his tent, mys stuff, unloading, preparing, etc., you get hungry. He had grown up in Tulsa and said "Indeed there is, to the car", and off the three of us went. With some other folks deciding this was a good idea and following along.
So we had good food and conversation, and I drank tea, and afterward- back at the reception- found more of that bird whiskey. And a fine evening was had by all.
Next morning the wake-up call rang and I grabbed the phone: "Yes, thank you. Yes, I really am awake. Yes, I'm sure I am", click. I rolled up, walked over to the window and looked out: a bit overcast but not bad. So I announced "Well, we'd better get at it". Had a beard at the time so didn't need to shave and had showered before bed, so just had to lay out the shirt and kilt and put them on. I'd finished, Brian was in the bathroom, and as I was singing something I heard a grunt. Looked over to see his girlfriend holding the sheet up just enough to glare at me, and this grating voice said "Why are you alive?", carrying hints of possibly desiring to end that condition. Unlike Gerry's friends, she was not impressed. Oh yeah, she was hungover. Bad. As in 'you stay here and come on out when you're ready', which turned out to be several hours later.
Nice day, except for the lady glaring at me occasionally. Reason came that evening. She said something along the lines of "You don't drink that much, how did you do it?", which made me start calculating. Which led to "Damn!" Went over it with Brian, and yes, in the course of that evening I'd had somewhere between eight and twelve ounces of neat whiskey. And I DON'T drink that much. Before, anyway. Since, really, except for one time... Reason she was pissed is she did drink regularly, hadn't had near that much and had a hangover fit to kill, whereas I, once I had put some iced tea down, was just fine.
And I still don't know why that much didn't knock me on my ass that night, let alone didn't give me a headache of mythic proportions.
I guess those of us with clear consciences, etc.
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