I was struck down this weekend by a serious condition known as the hangover. Those of you that have known me for many years, including the college years, will be surprised by that as it never happened even in the decadent twenties. I believe I internalized the no drinking message so deeply that I was unable to even think about it till at least a decade after it was legal for me. Also, alcohol mostly tastes shitty. Anyway, I had a few Saturday night, and by a few I mean about three, and surprisingly Sunday I had felt a little bit like hurling. Also my head hurt. It was an uncomfortable reminder of the First Hangover, or what I now refer to as the Time I Felt Like Shit After Drinking A Lot.
I believe I mentioned before that I got spectacularly drunk the night we finished competing in Lithuania. It was a long, long day and we didn't get back from the awards ceremony until close to midnight, whereupon we found that all retail entities for supplying food and drink were closed. The hotel people allowed us to buy vodka from the (closed) bar and I used my feminine wiles (at that time my wiles were mainly skinniness, so I think they really looked upon me as a pitiful waif) to procure some bread and butter from the kitchen. Also boxes of strangely flavored juice. With this feast the bacchanalia began, and continued until sunrise.
As it turns out, my lack of filter between mouth and brain is even lack-ier when there's alcohol involved. I believe it has been a protective measure all these years to keep my thoughts to myself by remaining sober. I did suspect in advance that there would be some personal freedoms not typically claimed by me, and put in place a system of backup, in the form of Jake and Conan, two members of Team USA. They were explicitly instructed that there was to be no dancing or jumping into the koiless koi pond. Conan turned out to be a miserable failure in that department but Jake was totally righteous and had my back all the way in spite of being spectacularly drunk himself. At any rate, it was amazing how many things I said that I wished I could grab back out of the ether approximately 0.5 seconds after I said them. I do that pretty regularly anyway, but it was certainly amplified by the CH3CH2OH.
One example of this was when I felt like my drink was made too strong by my eager-to-corrupt-me teammates. I was all, hey this is too strong. They were all, you lightweight. I was all, fine, I'll drink the man-juice. In my mind I just meant manly strong alcoholic drink but apparently when you say something about drinking man-juice, all minds go straight into the gutter, the gutter that is now filled with semen because you've mentioned man-juice. Hilarity ensued, nicknames were given. Ha ha ha. Fuck.
Another thing I may or may not have said came up when we were discussing random shit. Somehow the conversation arrived at my having taken a close up shot of a camel's toe when I was in the Middle East. I took the picture because how awesome is that? Camel toes are hilarious in both forms, the actual distal portion of the camel's walking apparatus and the visible cloven crotch of the tightly-panted. Anyway, I said something about then hopping up on that camel and riding it. It sounded obscene in the context of the camel toe discussion, I guess. Once again, hilarity ensued. Nickname, check. At this point did I decide never to speak again? No, I did not. I continued throughout the night to say outrageous shit, feeling stunned and regretful each time at what flew out of my mouth with no restraint at all.
The next day was marked by my first public vomiting (parking lot, gas station, at the side of the bus, Team France looking on) and also my irritated surprise that when you wake up, you're not necessarily sober. It took until late afternoon for me not to feel drunk-ish anymore. Nobody told me that and I'm still bitter about it. I thought when you wake up you get to be regular again. Next time there's a big secret that everybody knows but me I'd appreciate a heads up.
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