Every other hangover is the fourth worst hangover

Roro’s recent New Years Eve nostalgia post got me thinking about some of my own weird and wonderful New Years' Eves. There are many stories to choose from, but I’ve managed to nail it down to two youthful, drunken (stupid) moments in time, both in my late teens. Lest you think I am a complete and utter drunk, I will tell you that with the exception of a certain bandmate’s wedding this summer, I have not gotten nearly this potted in years.

#1: Age 20. The party at my house in college when the parental unit was away, where we drank quarts of some kind of loathsome cocktail made out of peppermint schnapps and soda water. The drink was called “bangers” I believe, and I don’t know whether this was something one of my friends made up, or a known drink. I can’t believe anyone would actually order this at a bar, so I’m leaning toward it being invented by one of my friends. The point of the exercise was to pour a shot (or two) of peppermint schnapps in a short glass, followed by a few ounces of soda water. You then covered the glass with your hand and banged it on the table a few times, thus producing an explosion of foamy mouthwash that you tried to quickly aim in the general direction of your slobbery, gaping maw. The result of the evening’s endeavors, aside from the third worst hangover of my life, was a gigantic stain on the wallpaper behind the couch where most of the liquid actually landed. At least the room smelled minty fresh when dad came home. (In case you’re curious, the story below produced the second worst hangover of my life, and the first worst, the worst-worst, just the fucking worst, involved tequila, spiked hot chocolate, Black Sabbath and hashish and I still feel sick and vaguely guilty whenever I think about that one, which was over 17 years ago).

#2: Age 18.  The New Year's Eve celebrated in the kitchen of a pizza place in Cambridge, Ontario because my then-friend’s-boyfriend couldn’t get off work. All the pizza parlour guys took Wake-Ups to stay awake during their late night shifts, and the cheery package with the rooster on it was just lying on a counter in the bathroom, inviting consumption. In a stupid fit of nihilist teenaged disregard for self (folks, don't do this at home) I decided to take one Wake-Up every time I went to the bathroom along with the copious drinking of rye and ginger ale. After returning home (somehow?) I lay awake all night, vibrating. I watched the numbers on my alarm clock flip over minute by minute, which burned the black and white characters onto my retinas (remember those pre-LCD alarm clocks where the numbers flipped?) I literally couldn’t close my eyes except to blink occasionally, that night or the next day. I felt as if my liver had been ripped out, stuffed full of rat poison and the decaying carcasses of rats and reinserted, only to emit small amounts of both continually over the next week.

 
Ah, how times have changed. This year, Daniel and I drank a meager bottle of bubby between us, watched House of Cards: To Play the King on DVD and went to bed before midnight.

Happy 2008! What's your most messed up New Year's Eve story?

Comments

[queen lisa of montreal]

I think the worst new years hangover I ever had was also (handily enough) the result of the worst relationship I ever had. My very bad boyfriend spent the night hitting on all my friends in front of me. Me being young and not realizing that I should have given Mr. Fuckwad a big old drink in the face and gathered my dignity, pride (and friends) and gotten the hell out of there...No, I decided that I must just be paranoid or jealous...of COURSE he wouldn't be that vile to hit on my friends in front of me! So, instead of listening to my intuition, I drank rye. Lots of it. And then did bottle tokes of hash. Two things I had never done before, and certainly not in tandem. By midnight, I lost the ability to walk, and crawled into the bathroom and was so sick I was worried that I would need to go to the hospital. But wouldn't, because I didn't want my parents to know I'd been doing drugs. Poor 20 year old me! Wish I could go back in time, kick some bad boyfriend ass, give my young self a good feminist talking to and say "hash and rye??? Seriously? And btw, the boy is a fucktard, get out now!" I think it took me another three or four months to decided that it really wasn't a good place to be in. Blech. Worst new years ever.

The best however, have been lovely. Fondue on an old wooden floor with candlelight and sweet old blues, with just a (good soul) lover and myself and mimosas in the morning. Dinner, conversation and wine with a few much loved friends. Alone at home, reading a great book and having been authentic and turned down invitations for other parties that just weren't my scene.

All good, and I've learned that for me, New Years is a time for reflection and thinking...not numbing with alcohol, horn tooting and drunk midnight sloppy kisses. Does that mean I'm old?

a great post, thanks...
love,
L.

[seizuresalad]

Oh, man that combo sounds bad queen lisa. BAD.
Yes, stupidity is often the landscape of the young, isn't it? Glad we have figured out how to reign it in (somewhat...)

[Aaliya]

Everyone has their own method for curing a hangover, its whatever works best for the person. I myself get really bad
hangovers, but I love to drink so Ive tried many methods and the one that works for me is making sure that very couple of
drinks you have, have a glass of water (a hangover is a form of dehydration) and when you get home from the bar (or
where-ever) take a few aspirins.
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