90 Days of Sobriety: Day 51

Ladies and Gentleman, Elvis has left the building.

Attention viewing audience, do not attempt to adjust your reading device. What you are about to read is true, and may be disturbing to some of you. Alcohol was consumed over the weekend, and it was awesome.

This past week saw the arrival of friends on vacation from Finland. Not wanting to be rude, I enjoyed libations with them. I officially pulled the, ‘Cheat Day’, card.

A cheat day is like a mini vacation from the strict regimen of food and beverage limitations associated with dieting. At the time, I was about 50 days into my diet. I had cheated earlier on Valentine’s Day with some pizza, but all of the other days were calorie, carbohydrate, and corn mash aware.

The day started around 4 pm at an Irish pub in Hollywood. On the sidewalk, tourists and character look alikes mingled with each other, bartering on how much a photo costs. Inside the pub, my eyes twinkled at the sight of whiskey on draft. Thoughts started jumbling together as all of the beer taps crashed around my head. I didn’t know which beer to start with first. When the waitress asked for our order, I changed my mind three different times. I was, that guy.

Catching up with my Finnish friends, my mind forgot about the drinks I had ordered. I was too wrapped up in what was new in Finland, and trying to figure out the best route to Lapland during winter time to see the aurora borealis. Between looking at maps on my phone and ticket prices to Finland, my drinks arrived in glistening glory. One tall glass filled with a red tinted ale, and one shot glass filled with a straw colored whiskey, both from Ireland. If my eyes could salivate, they would. Instead, I wept.

Fear and beauty stayed my hand. I exchanged excited glances around the table before grabbing the shot glass in front of me. Holding it up, we all gave cheers for good friends and good drink. I paused as I brought the glass to my lips, breathing in the sharp smell of the alcohol. As the wave of whiskey poured over my tongue, memories connected to its taste came to the forefront of my mind. Friends and lovers that have come and gone. Decisions that led to foolishness or greatness played side by side. The taste of honey and apple bloomed as evaporation and chemical change commenced. This is what I have been missing.

A strange thing occurs when alcohol is absent in the system for a while. The body treats it like any other poison and tries to purge it as fast as possible. Within that first taste of whiskey and a couple sips of beer, my mind and motor functions were having technological differences. In the industry, we like to call this a cheap date. I was ecstatic, not only was I at a comfortable level of inebriation, but I saved a lot of money on my tab.

The night progressed into a different location so our car could be left behind and taxis drive the rest of the way. My girlfriend and I shared our local haunts and introduced our friends to the libation officers we have grown to love. One fear I had was that of over indulging. Oddly enough, I was no longer drinking as to win a race, but often forgetting that I had a drink in front of me as I engaged in conversation. Alcohol eventually caught up as I started choosing songs on the jukebox.

Four of the whitest people, with greased inhibitions, took over that little space in front of the speakers. I knew that the majority of the bar was watching, but being self conscious no longer applied. Instead, I wanted them to see. I wanted them to feel left out of the awesomeness transpiring in front of them. My dancing was going to make a permanent mark upon their memories and bother them during sleepless nights. Yes, I was drunk, and yes, you are welcome.

Hugs, handshakes and kisses on the cheek rounded out the night. Photos proved that a good time was had, and the rest of social media knew it. It was an amazing night, clear of any anger and sloppy revelry. Good fun with good friends and a decent bedtime. This is what it is like to be a responsible drinker. The next day was a different story.

Morning came late as the body needed more rest to heal from the poison consumed the night before. Dehydration of the brain caused it to slightly separate itself from the membrane within the skull. Cotton filled the mouth and throat, as the body properly delegated the allocation of hydration. Legs ached as the femurs struggled with producing red blood cells that had been destroyed. Confusion flitted around my head as I forgot where the new hat rack in the living room came from. Chopped up memories and sore muscles reminded me that I found it on the way home and carried it the rest of the way. In my defense, it is a nice hat rack.

The cheat day continued as greasy food was consumed to offset the feeling of being hungover. False promises of never drinking again were made, as talk of mimosas still hung in the air. It was the smiles from the previous night that persisted. This was a good cheat day.