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It was your typical Friday night – ducked out of work a little bit early around 4:15 p.m. after the boss had been out since 2:00 p.m.. Got home, relaxed for a few, shot the shit with the roommates, and then the evening began to take a turn for the worst. Still reeling from the hangover after Thursday night’s shenanigans, I wasn’t intending to do anything too crazy. My friends, if I can even call them that anymore, had vastly different plans.
What started out as a few casual beers in anticipation of another night at the bars was upended by the appearance of my Latino nemesis, Jose Cuervo. Courtesy of one of my roommates, the pregame became an all-you-can drink slugfest, with shots and beers flowing like we were back in undergrad. This left me in a state of near blackout before even heading out to our destination.
Descriptions of my appearance that night were not friendly for my ego. The phrases “dead on arrival,” “obliterated,” and the simple but cutting “Yikes, Brad” were all thrown at me the next day. However, it’s not those comments that have left me questioning when I’ll finally adjust to this whole “adult” lifestyle I’m apparently supposed to be living. Rather, it was the memories that came flooding back to me throughout Saturday in a wave of drunken regret unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
I awoke confused and with an intense pain in my elbows. The cause of these injuries was later disclosed to me by my brain as I was granted the recollection of myself trying what some would call an “advanced” dance move before eating shit and landing elbows first on the ground. I vaguely remember being there at the bar, lying in a pool of spilt drinks and despair, but to be honest I’m glad the memory is hazy.
From there, the next thing I remember is being in my Uber ride home. After checking the time stamp, it appears I was at a bar for a confident and mature 45 minutes before heading out. Most likely, my drunken tumble ended my night, which was probably the only good decision I made that evening. The memory that flashed across my mind was that of my large Uber driver comforting me, and telling me that “everything is going to be okay” as I emptied the contents of the evening out his car window and onto the streets. Alone, I sat in the back of his Toyota Camry in shame, but silently thanking God that I’d splurged for an UberX instead of Pool.
More and more since graduating I’ve been reminded (often painfully) that I’m not in college anymore. Usually it’s just getting up to go to work in the morning, but sometimes it’s the throbbing remnants of a night that got out of control. I’ve been beginning to ask myself if it’s time to mature or “grow-up.” As much as I want to stuff that thought into the deepest recesses of my mind, it’s becoming increasingly difficult, especially after this weekend.
However, when it really comes down to it, I don’t want to grow up too fast. You only get to experience life in your early 20s once, and if it’s even partially socially acceptable to continue acting the way I have been, I’ll take the occasional loss like I experienced this weekend anytime. Life is short, and even though I might be drastically shortening it with my particular choice of habits, I wouldn’t have it any other way..
Image via Jeramey Lende / Shutterstock
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Post Grad Brad
Recent post grad whose name is Brad. That pretty much sums it up. Email me at postgradbrad@gmail.com.
You had a really nice uber driver..
I’m sorry about your new Uber rating.
I puked in a uber and got a $200 charge. Defiantly felt the opposite of alive the next day.
Tequila will get you every time. A few weeks ago, I went to a smaller concert with two buddies. One got kicked out right when we got there, for throwing up a tequila shot that the two of them took at the bar. The another blacked out and left to go home after two songs. I said no to the tequila and ended up having to watch the final 90 minutes of the concert solo.
Moral of the story is do the tequila shot.
Key word is “occasional”. We’ve all had a few too many. You just never want to be the guy that ALWAYS has a few too many.
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Trash.
If you’re still getting “throw up in people’s cars” drunk, you should already have your answer for whether it’s time to grow up.
Typical HR response.
You’ve never had a night get away from you? Like I said, if it’s a regularly occurring thing, give it a rest. But don’t go quietly into that good night just because you’re in your late 20’s.
You sound boring
I don’t see how hard it is to NOT puke in a car or anywhere from drinking when you act like you’ve been there before. Sure maybe once or twice a year a party gets the best of you. If you’re out of college and still puking every few months, maybe figure out how to be a better partier.
I puke in my toilet (or other people’s toilet, or once a bucket) like an adult. I’m not making a $200 mess in someone else’s car.
Fuckin’ a, Toby