You didn’t misread the title. This year will be my official retirement from Thanksgiving Eve Raging. The past few years, I’ve woke up feeling like death, unable to function, and even found a pair of panties in the coat pocket I was still wearing. Thanksgiving Eve has not been completely kind to me these past few years. Some people call it “Wild Turkey Wednesday,” and I’ve been schooled on it with an accelerated course at the 101-level. (#DadJokes) “Catching up” with old teammates and classmates meant multiple rounds of Vegas bombs, cheap beers, and ultimately poor decisions. I can’t recall all of those bad decisions, because of such an elevated BAC, but I can guarantee you I had some “Turkey Day Scaries” in my previous years of newfound adulthood and that magical time we all called college.
It’s meant that the past few years when I’ve volunteered to make a dessert or side dish I’ve woken up only to hit up the grocery store for a cheap store bought pie after sleeping past noon. My mom and dad would make the typical “Go out last night?” comment with sadistic grins as I laid the pie down on the counter and immediately excused myself to the basement, devoid of sunlight and any human contact, as I tried to sleep off what is traditionally the most wicked hangover of the year. I’ve failed at doing some of the most basic things that makes Thanksgiving a holiday worth saving from the imposing Christmas creep, and I somewhat (YOLO) regret it. This year though… This year will be different, because as of now I will vow to make do things differently.
I will do that Turkey Trot 10K I’ve said I was going to do the past few years. I will not oversleep past the start time, wake up still too drunk to drive, and then say, “Fuck, I’ll just sleep it off,” wasting any time you could have saved by getting a good jump start to the day. Goal times won’t matter because I have already won by getting farther than a DNS (running jargon for ‘Did Not Start’). Also, because I ran, I will have no second thoughts about a third helping of my mom’s famous “Pumpkin Dump Cake” a la mode.
I will make that dessert this year. I will not wake up feeling like complete shit. In fact, I’ll even have the ingredients placed out even before I make my way to the bar for a responsible buzz rather than the blackout-induced fall colored maniac I’ve been in previous years. I will have ample time to bake said pie and maybe even bring a side of cornbread stuffing if time will allow.
I will enjoy getting a nice buzz at the Thanksgiving dinner table. The thought of alcohol will not make me want to vomit as I fight the hangover shakes of only the worst hangovers. I’ll stroll into the house with a pick-sixer of pumpkin beers and late Oktoberfest brews and a bottle of wine.
I will be social. I will not have a pounding headache that makes me want to avoid genuine human interaction. I will actively cheer for (or curse at) my football team as I work on the six-pack I brought. I’ll not only be able to update everyone on how I’ve been, but I’ll also be able to ask them about their lives. I may even get a chance to humblebrag about the upcoming Christmas Card.
I will eat more than a small helping of biscuits and stuffing without feeling sick. I will gorge myself on a drumstick, brined turkey meat, stuffing, potatoes, and even more stuffing. I will not endure the heartbreaking look of any mom as I pass over almost the entire feast while I sit at the table with a plate fit for a picky toddler.
And most importantly, I will legitimately enjoy my Thanksgiving.
I’m not telling you all to stay sober Thanksgiving Eve, because I certainly won’t be, but be sure to not go overboard either. I’ve had at least three Thanksgivings ruined due to crippling hangovers. Nothing is worse than having a holiday dedicated to food and family go to waste as you try to nurse a crippling two-day hangover. It’s especially worse if you have work Friday and not only miss out on an enjoyable relaxing Turkey day because you spent the morning hugging a porcelain throne, your head felt like it was going to explode, and you spent the day more nauseous than a lactose intolerant sailor chugging milk on choppy waters.
I guess we’ll all see how we do Thursday. Have a Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. .
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