I always manage to have some interesting discussions at work with some of my friends, and the subject of drinking and alcohol came up today, right out of the blue. I think it had to do with either drinking to forget, or drinking so you won’t remember anything in the morning that happens tonight.
One of my favourite movie lines, of all time, is John Belushi in “Animal House,” saying to one of the pledges, “My advice is to drink, heavily.” Wiser words were never heard.
In my college days, I have what I refer to as two “lost weekends,” and both happened when I was involved with the school radio station, WNYT. Both started on a Friday and ended sometime on a Sunday.
The first was right around Christmas, before school let for the holiday. I was filling in on a Friday night show, 6pm to 10 pm and was really looking forward to it. I got to the station fairly early, around 4 PM and found a bottle of Jack Daniels being passed around. Needless to say, I had my fair share.
Being on the air was quite fun, not that I remember much of it 30 something years later. When I got off the air at 10, I met some of my friends at a diner and then went home around 1 am.
I was also doing another fill in show Saturday night, 6 pm to 10 pm and another bottle of Jack Daniels was getting passed around. Boy, Jack was a very popular guy in college. He made friends wherever he went!
Then I had to do my regular show on Sunday afternoon, 2 pm to 6 pm and boy was I tired. My entire being hurt, and I vowed never to do that again.
Fast forward to a couple of months later. I had to do those same Friday and Saturday fill-in shows again, so I got to party again at the station. The only difference is that on Saturday night when I got off the air, I went with my friend Bob to someone’s house for a party, and didn’t leave.
I woke up around 8 am, and wondered where I was. Then I saw Bob on another chair, and it all came back. I woke him up, and drove him home, and I got home around 9 am. My father tried to talk to me, but I told him we’ll talk later and I went to sleep until 12 pm.
After a quick shower and something to eat, I got to the station just before show time at 2 pm, and muddled my way through a Top 40 show that I had no business doing.
Oh, did I mention that the guy on before like to smoke marijuana? So imagine a hangover of epic proportions, walking into a studio full of marijuana smoke. A very interesting combination to say the least.
Years later, I went to a holiday party to a club with a bunch of people I was working with at a department store. The next day, as I was holding on to the service desk for dear life, the building was spinning around me, people came up to me and told me I had a very good time. After the third or tenth person told me this, I asked what I did, and who I did it with
After hearing that person chuckle, the told me that I was making out with a girl from the customer service department in one of the booths, and seemed to be enjoying it. Have you ever seen that blank stare of someone who has no clue what you’re talking about? That was me.
So imagine my surprise when this girl walks into my department, wraps her arms around me, gives me a hug and kiss and thanks me for a good time the night before. Yet another blank stare ensues. She smiles, tells me to call her, and walks away.
My coworkers are looking at me like I have three heads. I ask one of them, “What was her name.” Laughter rings across the floor, until one of the guys says, “Her name is Donna, and she works in customer service.”
The one thing, or should I say the two things I remember about her was her massive chest. Her boobs were so big they could qualify for a car insurance discount on bumpers. I might need danger pay.
We went out a couple of times after that, but it wasn’t the same. I guess copious amounts of alcohol were needed to recreate the first events, but that didn’t happen.
Today, I rarely drink, and when I do it’s usually some wine, and rarely hard liquor. I do like coconut rum though, and when I’m in the right mood, will have some with some cola.
My friend Joe says his drink of choice is also rum and from the way he talks about it, he drinks a lot more of it that I do. So when he said these following words, I knew right then and there I had to write about drinking and end the column with it.
“Alcohol is like wearing an invisibility cloak. Your problems don’t go away, you just can’t see them for a few hours.”
Matt Seinberg lives on Long Island, a few minutes east of New York City. He looks at everything around him and notices much. Somewhat less cynical than dyed in the wool New Yorkers, Seinberg believes those who don't see what he does like reading about what he sees and what it means to him. Seinberg columns revel in the silly little things of life and laughter as well as much well-directed anger at inept, foolish public officials. Mostly, Seinberg writes for those who laugh easily at their own foibles as well as those of others.
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