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Aug. 16th, 2003 02:02 amThis afternoon was company-sponsored day at the movies, where we saw Pirates of the Carribean, followed by free appetizers and "limited" free drinks at Alcatraz Brewing Company.
The tally:
4 small plates worth of appetizers.
5 glasses of beer.
1 Dr. Pepper
1 Brandy Manhattan, straight up.
It appears I have become quite the drinker. And of course, I didn't pay a dime for any of this, thanks to people dropping off their spare drink tickets over at our table, and the Dr. Pepper required no ticket.
I do remember that even though I was drunk enough to have perceptible difficulty standing and walking, I was still nervous that I was making a bad impression on people, and might end up having to apologize for something on Monday, or at the very least alienating my chances with the female employees. But, in the end, while it was likely obvious to all that my judgment was impaired, I remained a gentleman, and remember several times having ideas and thinking "no, bad idea while this drunk."
But, it was more important to me to push the limits of my tolerance for alcohol, so I kept going. I don't know why. If the reason was that I expected the nervousness and self-consciousness to go away, I didn't succeed as well as I had hoped.
One strange side effect was that when I went into the men's room, and nobody was around, I would start dancing, because you can hear the music in there way better than in the restaurant. And I would dance all the way back to my table.
And also, while my speech was slurred, I didn't have (or notice) quite as often the problem I have when sober, where I would start a sentence, and forget how to end it halfway through.
I was nauseous for about 15 seconds at some point after my third beer, but nothing happened and it didn't return.
So I get home around 7pm(!) and pass out on my bed, and I wake up at 1am and here I am, hung over, good-sized headache, and since I got up I ate a banana and am drinking some microwaved tomato soup. And somehow, I'm still trying to extract some kind of meaning from the evening.
Even six drinks cannot stop me from overanalyzing.
The tally:
4 small plates worth of appetizers.
5 glasses of beer.
1 Dr. Pepper
1 Brandy Manhattan, straight up.
It appears I have become quite the drinker. And of course, I didn't pay a dime for any of this, thanks to people dropping off their spare drink tickets over at our table, and the Dr. Pepper required no ticket.
I do remember that even though I was drunk enough to have perceptible difficulty standing and walking, I was still nervous that I was making a bad impression on people, and might end up having to apologize for something on Monday, or at the very least alienating my chances with the female employees. But, in the end, while it was likely obvious to all that my judgment was impaired, I remained a gentleman, and remember several times having ideas and thinking "no, bad idea while this drunk."
But, it was more important to me to push the limits of my tolerance for alcohol, so I kept going. I don't know why. If the reason was that I expected the nervousness and self-consciousness to go away, I didn't succeed as well as I had hoped.
One strange side effect was that when I went into the men's room, and nobody was around, I would start dancing, because you can hear the music in there way better than in the restaurant. And I would dance all the way back to my table.
And also, while my speech was slurred, I didn't have (or notice) quite as often the problem I have when sober, where I would start a sentence, and forget how to end it halfway through.
I was nauseous for about 15 seconds at some point after my third beer, but nothing happened and it didn't return.
So I get home around 7pm(!) and pass out on my bed, and I wake up at 1am and here I am, hung over, good-sized headache, and since I got up I ate a banana and am drinking some microwaved tomato soup. And somehow, I'm still trying to extract some kind of meaning from the evening.
Even six drinks cannot stop me from overanalyzing.
