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That smug look on my face is only half because I know I look bomb in that tux. The other half comes from the knowledge that I have a superpower that none of the lowly commoners around me are able to enjoy. Yes, a superpower.
I don’t have x-ray vision, can’t predict the future, can’t scale buildings in a single bound, and bullets don’t bounce off me — although I do feel invincible at times. I have a superpower, though, and it’s one that I take advantage of regularly. It’s also one I’m sure every person reading this would consider paying a large sum of money for.
I’m immune to hangovers.
I simply do not experience them. At all. I’ve been this way for about two years now. Before that, I did experience hangovers, albeit to a lesser degree than you mere mortals.
I don’t know exactly how ridiculous that sounds, but it’s the truth. And I obviously have no way of proving this, so I’ll do best to recount my alcohol intake last Thursday night, the night of the annual Grandex Christmas party, as well as my condition the morning after. Hopefully, this evidence will suffice in helping prove my claim. The truth of the matter is, even after nights such as this one in which I get completely obliterated, I wake up feeling like I didn’t have a sip of alcohol.
The party started at 7:00. It ended at 10:00. It was an open bar.
4:40 – 5:00 — I shower, shave, and get dressed. I drink a single Spaten Oktoberfest during this time.
5:15 — Hop in Uber with fellow Grandexual and burbanite Madison Wickham and head for downtown Austin.
6:10 — Arrive at The Driskill hotel for pre-party drinks. I have two whiskey and waters, the drink of choice for the night.
Three fingers whiskey, one finger water, over ice.
6:50 — Depart The Driskill for The W, the location of our party.
7:05 — We arrive at the Grandex Christmas party and I settle in with a Stella Artois, the second and final beer of the night.
7:15 – 10:00 — I switch back and forth between whiskey-waters and vodka sodas the remainder of the party. I didn’t keep count, but by my completely honest estimate, I had roughly five WWs and three VSs during this time.
Note: Throw in about three heater breaks while at the party because you know your boy burns when he drinks.
10:00 — The party has ended. We all depart for 6th Street and arrive at a bar called Burnsides. Grandex keeps the tab rolling.
10:10 — Whiskey and water.
10:30 — Whiskey and water.
10:45 — Heater break, take a quick pic with some street chick, then back inside for a whiskey and water.
10:45 – 12:35 —It gets fuzzy at this point, but I called my Uber ride home at 12:35, and up until that point I was drinking whiskey. Let’s be conservative for the sake of this little experiment and say I slowed way down and sipped on two whiskey and waters during this hour and fifty minute timeframe.
Yeah, it’s 22.72 miles from the Austin bar district to my home in the ‘burbs. I keep it low-pro out there. Get at me.
To sum it up, from 5:00 p.m. until 12:35 a.m., I consumed two beers, three vodka sodas, and, at minimum, 12 whiskey drinks. I do not remember much of anything related to that ride home, all 36 minutes of it, and I remember none of being inside my house when I arrived. Some might call that a blackout.
I woke up the next morning at 8:30, spent about 15 groggy minutes deciding whether to sit up and touch two feet to the floor or attempt going back to sleep, then ultimately decided more sleep wasn’t happening. I was feeling a tad dehydrated, so I walked to the kitchen, poured a glass of ice water, downed it, started a pot of coffee, then I was on the couch at 9:00 with my lappy open, ready to work.
I felt fine, just as I do every morning. No headache, no stomach queazies, no lethargy, no noticeable effects whatsoever from the previous night. Amazing, isn’t it?
You know, a lot of people ask me if I could somehow harness this power and share it with the world, would I? Like if I knew the key to hangover immunity, would I let the world in on the secret? The answer is obviously and emphatically a no. The truth is I really enjoy waking up Saturday and Sunday mornings to see what’s popping on the TL. It’s always filled with whiny babies crying about their hangovers and swearing off alcohol, and I can’t help but feel a sense of empowerment and impunity, like how I imagine Trump feels listening to poor people whining about being poor.
Hate on it, haters..