Alcoholic’s Conrer

Well, midterms are over and the world is back to normal (or as normal as its going to get for us college-going elite) but with the closing of one door I dub “anxiety” opens another called “outright terror” or what our professors would call “finals.” So with all the preparations, projects, and studying our thoughts are again turning to that marvelous thing we students call “the drink” but as is with all things fun, there is a time and a place for everything. Which leads me to a story that taught me this valuable lesson.
With all the hard boozing I did in my younger days, who would have ever thought that it would come to an end? I mean I was dubbed “SoCo” my freshman year for ingesting 35 shots of Southern Comfort in a matter of hours (A true story I swear. I have witnesses) so who would have thought that the oh so sweet nectar known as bourbon would soon be stricken from my diet. Bourbon and me used to be the best of friends but alas, all good things must come to an end. It was on a beautiful evening sometime over the summer. I don’t remember what month or day it was and you will find out why soon enough. I was at one of my good friend’s wedding (one might call him a professor) and it was a beautiful service. Beautiful bride, awkward groom, and everyone dressed in their Sunday best (all the staples of an American wedding.) Another staple of the American wedding occurred at the reception with the two words I love so much “Open Bar.” Well, those words turned out to be my downfall.
From the moment I arrived at the reception there were two words I longed to say.. Jack and Coke. So I did, a lot. From 5-11 pm I said those words many times. Near around 9:30 pm I was still feeling fine, slightly inebriated but fine none-the-less. Now I don’t know if I was the male version of Cinderella but at 10 pm (not midnight) my beautiful sobriety abruptly turned into what we have been seeing a lot of on campus lately. A blackout. Just like those campus blunders this one was no picnic. One moment I was alive and grooving at the wedding, hanging out with some friends and having a good time. The next thing I know I awake in my bed and the clock reads 6:30 am. This confused me but through various interviews I pieced together a few random memories of the shambles of my evening.So from what I gather I was pretty much contained by a group highly skilled at the art of damage control. I was drunk, very drunk, in fact my roommate who picked me up said that in all the years she has known me she has never seen me this drunk. In this small group that I was contained there were some special people such as the groom’s parents who after that first impression probably have a very interesting opinion of me. I also proceeded to make a complete ass of myself in front of a man who is quite renowned in the field of employment I wish to pursue (which made for another horrible first impression). I then proceeded to keep ordering drinks and bribed the bartender with twenty dollars to stop him from cutting me off (and when an “open bar” tender is cutting you off, you know its bad). When the reception was over I invited some of my friends back to my house to finish off some leftover beer we had from an earlier party but before they even got there I was passed out on the couch, a sad sight indeed.
With those mishaps in my personal judgment I have therefore sworn off the devil that is whiskey even though I do love it so. So just remember folks that there is a time and a place for everything and getting stupidly wasted at a wedding full of mature adults who are significantly older than you may not be the best time, nor place. I hope my mistakes will lead you all away from the dark side that is utter embarrassment when on the drink. So as always, be safe, have fun, and have a drink for me (but not too too many.)