Containers, Toothpaste and Other Side Effects of Socialcoholizing

No no no you say. Not gonna drink much tonight. You keep thinking about it while you are at work. Not gonna go out afterwards either. Just gonna go home, drink some tea and go to bed sober.
If you have these kinds of thoughts already at 12 o’clock at noon, the evening you are about to have will definitely be memorable, where the memory won’t fail at least. This I learned much too late to my own misfortune.
So you get there calm, slightly tired, with a somewhat melancholic expression on your face. You put yourself nicely on a chair, make sure your top isn’t folded and join the most casual conversation, exchanging courtesies and such.
If you don’t have a drinking problem obviously you won’t refuse a drink. How kind of them to offer. It sure is tasty. What’s in it? Rum you say? Good.
If you don’t have a drinking problem, you won’t refuse a second drink either. You are already warm from the first one. Don’t need that blanket anymore, thanks for borrowing! The conversations take a different turn you notice. Thank goodness it wasn’t me who vomited in the purse on a buss!
All of a sudden an hour has flown by and you are so warm you actually feel like taking something off. You laugh perhaps too much, perhaps too loud, perhaps even if you didn’t get the joke. Is there any more rum left?
Before you know it, you find yourself screaming in someone’s face something about Christmas and spontaneity. You are more than surprised when the third person is trying to pull you away. Apparently it looked like we were having an argument. Well I don’t agree! And I would certainly like to finish that productive discussion. You try to liberate yourself from that third person who also seems to be sitting on you. And then you can see nothing but ceiling and realize you are actually being sat on. Your spine hurts because you are lying on a half-empty wine bottle. Tempranillo, I think.
Even though it must be minus 30 outside, nothing seems more attractive than urinating behind a huge container while waiting for that cab to come and take you to a place where other idiots like you, who also thought tonight ‘Ah why the hell not!’, are moving in the opposite direction of music. You can really feel the power of gravity tonight. I think I have beer on my butt.
Time to say bye bye, or at least try to pronounce something that remotely sounds like that. And figure out where the buss leaves from. Tough one. And then a miracle happens. You get there! By yourself! On foot! On time! So I do come with autopilot after all!
The ride home has little to offer. You are mostly relieved to see that a fellow passenger looks more chewed up that you. So maybe the others didn’t see how drunk I was? Two words: wishful thinking.
When the morning comes and hits you in the head with a bulldozer, the remnants of toothpaste in your hair do not provoke a surprise in you.