What Do You Do With a Drunken Quixote?

[jamesq]

Most of what follows are observations and thoughts on my own drunkenness. I'm sure most people get this out of their systems when they started drinking in their late teens and early twenties. I'm a little late to the bar, so bear with me.

I got to the grotto party already somewhat tipsy, having just consumed three ciders. My stomach was feeling a little odd, I think because I was drinking too fast. This isn't out of any desire to get drunk quickly mind you (the night was still young) but more to the fact that I was standing holding my drink. I drink faster if I have to hold it and slower if I can put it down. It's the same for water, pop or whatever I'm holding. Don't worry, I didn't get sick at all. It was more of a sort of stomach-to-brain: here-I-am message.

The grotto party was crowded. I've never been to a rave before, but I imagine a rave would be something like this, only with more dancing and less trees. Everyone was having a grand old time. People were being social, there was camaraderie, drummers were drumming and belly dancers were dancing.

The bar was handing out what I guess were margaritas. There was no flavors, only colors.

"What are you drinking?"
"Red. Yourself?"
"Something green."

Me, I had some blue. Enough to fill one of those cheap and disposable plastic glasses you get at beer gardens. I think there was 12 ounces of blue in my cup. I proceeded to sip out of it until it was two thirds done. I've discovered that there is a point where you notice that what you're drinking tastes like shit, but you don't care. I had reached that point. Then one of the serving wenches (One of those aforementioned Myrgan Wood hotties, blonde and with a pointy hat, so probably a Viscountess) knocked the blue right out of my hand. She apologized and fetched some orange for me.

By this point in the evening, I was having trouble walking properly. I wasn't staggering (yet) but I was at that point where I had to concentrate really hard on walking in a straight line, and to do so would have revealed how impaired I was due to my slow-and-deliberate steps. I held on to a lot of trees and leaned on them for support. I could stand unsupported if I wanted to, I just swayed a lot.

I was drunk. Loaded. Shnockered. Hammered.

In short, I was really really happy and I had a big goofy grin on my face most of the evening.

It was weird, I was drunk, but my judgement didn't seem that impaired (just don't ask me about my coordination). I had several opportunities to do truly spectacular stupid things and I recognized them for what they were and didn't do them. That's a load off my mind.

Technically, alcohol lowers inhibitions. Now I know that intellectually, but I never really knew what it meant for me. What it means is that the little mental editor I have that says "this is a bad idea for reason X" has been replaced by a little mental editor that says "this is a bad idea for reason Y. And don't the stars look beautiful tonight.". The continual second guessing that I do with myself mentally also isn't there.

Here's an example. There was a hammock tied across two trees in the grotto. Several people tried Hammock Surfing (standing on it and trying to balance). Now if I was sober, I would think "Don't do it because I'll fall and look foolish. People will laugh at me. They'd think I'm stupid for trying. etc."

When I was drunk I thought "You can't do that when you're sober, don't try it now when you're having trouble walking." That's it. No beating myself up over perceived faults, just short simple and good advice.

At one point I ran into Anise. Now in my teetotaler past, I had given Anise a hard time about being an alcoholic and it led to some friction when we first knew each other. The first couple of times we'd met, she had gone out of her way to get loaded. Turns out there was a reason (and no, I'm not going into that here) and later times she drank socially, responsibly. I had a bad first impression of her based on unique circumstances.

"Anise! I owe you an apology", I slurred, "This whole alcohol thing isn't just a silly fad".
"Exactly how much have you had to drink darlin'?", she asked
"Three ciders and a little more then one of these", I said, indicating my orange.
"And how are you feeling?"
"Like a million dollars!"
"Well you're leaning against that tree so I think you've had exactly enough. Any more and you're not going to enjoy the experience.", she said.

I decided that this was good advice from a source wiser and more experienced in the ways of booze than I was. So I stopped drinking.

Another example of my changed mental editor. A girl I know was also at the Grotto party and had way more then she could handle. At one point she was sitting in some guy's lap making out with him. Nothing wrong with that though I did feel a tinge of misplaced jealousy. The jealousy went away when i saw something shiny.

Later, I see him and her trying to make there way out of the party. She was clearly too drunk to make it back to her camp on her own without getting lost/injured. He had no idea where her camp was either, but I did.

Now let me interject here - I don't believe that he was taking her back to her camp to take advantage of her. She was clearly distressed and he was clearly concerned. Even so, while I'm sure she was far safer from the roofie treatment at an SCA event then in a club back in town, I've met enough assholes in the SCA to know that being at an event is no guarantee of safety.

Sober or drunk, I'd have helped her back to her camp. If I was sober though, I'd have second guessed myself the whole goddamned trip. "Should I be butting in", "Should I have gotten involved", "I hope she doesn't misinterpret this". Blah blah blah.

Drunk however, the thought processes went like this: "My friend is in trouble - Help Friend Now." And that was that.

Me and the boy got her out of the grotto. My friend was in a bad way. She realized that she had drank way more then she could handle and she was mentally beating herself up over it. The boy left and I had to take her back to camp myself. This meant lots of reassuring noises from me and a positive attitude. Luckily I had both in spades. Some reservoir of competence had opened up inside me and I was mainlining it. I was going to help this chick and nothing would go wrong. Her negative attitude was of no consequence to me.

I had fallen straight into every G-rated knight-in-shinging-armour fantasy I'd ever had. Don't get me wrong, I have X-rated fantasies too, this just wasn't one of them.

Another friend of hers happened upon us and gave me a hand getting her back to her camp. Being less drunk and more experienced with handling drunks than I, he gave some excellent advice. Namely to drink lots of water to avoid tomorrow's hangover.

We got her settled away safely. Then I went back to the grotto - I was drunk, not tired. I was also elated with a feeling of accomplishment and also the knowledge that my moral compass worked just fine when I was loaded. I'm quite proud of that.

Having the little second-guessing voice silenced was a sort of sweet relief. Little things that would normally bother me in one way or the other, didn't. I saw plenty of girls making out, and while I did look at them with a sort of longing envy, I didn't dwell on it like I would if I were sober. At one point wackynephews' and I witnessed two people necking who probably shouldn't have been (one of whom I've had a bit of a crush on for some time now).

"Now why doesn't that shit ever happen to me" I asked rhetorically.
"It's because we're married", said wackynephews, referring to himself and the lucky gent, "That makes us safe."
"Nah", I said, "That's not it. I'm just unlucky."

And that was it. We moved on. I didn't rail about my damned luck to the heavens. I certainly didn't speculate on alternative theories why I'm unlucky in love (fat, ugly, collect comic books, CPSC degree, etc.). No, my number simply hadn't come up and that was all right.

I mingled some more, and between my trip to the damsel-in-distress' camp and back and another hour of shmoozing, I was starting to sober up. I was still quite loaded, but I sensed that the little voice was coming back and only more drinking would stop it. On the other hand, I was still on the not-sick side of the drunkenness line. It was time to go to bed, so I staggered back to camp and went to sleep.

All in all, a fun experience. The only downside is that for a few days after I was craving it again. I've always suspected that drinking could be a problem for me (alcoholism runs in my family), but I think it'll be alright. I stopped when I should have. I didn't do anything wrong when I was drunk. I'm smart enough to know that if I drink when I'm happy, I'll be a happy drunk. I'll save it for special occasions, when I'm prepared for the consequences and can handle it. Now that a few days have passed, the craving has too.

Comments

[ladyerwyn.livejournal.com]

I used to have reservations about drinking because alcoholism runs in my family. My mom is seriously messed up and that messed me up really bad emotionally and I don't know if I'll ever get over that, but that's another story. I was always scared that if I drank, I would also become an alcoholic, but just because family is doesn't mean you will. Especially when you are aware of all of it. Aware that it runs in your family, how you feel about it and the reasons as to why you do drink when you drink.

I got seriously plastered at my Sister's wedding, because my baby sis got married and I wanted to get hammered. It was fun and funny. The whole family had a good laugh, because most of them had never seen me drunk, let alone this drunk. I also had a sort of commraderie going with my brother-in-laws brother 'cause he's an alcoholic and a partier and we were both drunk at the time. I got to see him as a person for the first time. That was kinda weird and he is also another story.

I rarely drink, but when there is a big party or occasion I am no longer hesitant to get drunk if that is my intention, or to drink, because I know if I am only going to drink one drink than that is it. I only drink once or twice a year and when I do drink at a party and it's really fun I do tend to want to do it again, but I don't. If you are okay and know you don't want to become an alcoholic you have the power to not. besides, it's only fun sometimes and in the appropriate forums. Most of the time I avoid it because it tastes like shit. Beer is out, 'cause it tastes like shit.

Anywho...it sounds like you had a great time. That sounds like it was a lot of fun. Makes me wish you guys lived closer.