What Do You Do When You’re Wasted?

Do not. Even. Come near me right now. Okay, maybe just wait a few minutes.

What a loaded question, right? I mean, what haven’t most of us done while completely wasted beyond all comprehension? I have many stories (most too personal to post on my blog, hello!), but I think we all follow a certain pattern. I’m not alluding to all the crap most do, like stumble around in confusion trying to find our way to our car/house or flirt too much or suddenly decide that a perfect stranger we met that night is our new best friend, because “we get each other” or just plainly make stupid mistakes in general. Everyone pretty much does one of or all of that when we’ve downed one too many.

I’m referring to our rituals, because we all have one.

Some flop straight into their beds, only to awaken in crumpled clothes as they try to ascertain what time and day it is. Personally, I have to say that being in this situation sucks, trying to determine if it’s night or day on which day of the week when you suddenly wake up. It’s very disconcerting! Others sleep in their cars or seek refuge at a friend’s place or collapse onto the couch in their living room. If even a little sober enough to walk straight, some may attempt to drink some water, take Advil, and brush their teeth before sloughing off to bed.


I tend to get really hot (temperature wise) if I’ve had too much to drink. My body runs warm in general and it amps up when I’m tipsy (or way over tipsy). So I — and I know I’m not unusual in this behavior — upon entering my house, immediately begin to shed my clothes and then lie on the cool, welcoming floor of my bathroom. Not because I’m afraid that I will get sick and therefore need to stay close to the toilet, but because that cold tile is a godsend against my skin as I lie there and my body tries to reverse all the negative effects I have imposed on it. You can literally see my travel from the front door to the bathroom; there is an item of clothing every step of the way, Hansel and Gretel style.

Of course, my significant other at the time (I make it sound like I have had tons when I’ve actually had very few), will always try to get me up, saying stuff like, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in bed?” or “Aren’t you cold? Let’s get you all bundled up!” to which I usually respond with an “umpf grumble, I’m fine, mumble, leave me the ‘eff alone, oof! Snore!”. People usually then know to leave me alone because I will otherwise be snarly and combative, fighting them as they try to pick me up off the floor (don’t take that cold floor away from me and besides, I’m fine! I’m okay!).

Even if I don’t end up on the floor, my ultimate drunkenness remedy is sleep. I will drop off into a dead sleep for many hours, entirely unaware and uncaring of what is happening around me because, dammit, my body is forcing me to shut down. I have been known to fall dead asleep at a bar or club or in someone’s house, eyes screwed tight against the world as I sink into the netherworld and ignore everything around me and snuffle into oblivion.

Is any of that attractive? Or appealing? Hell no! But we don’t care about such things when we are in that condition, do we? We just want to do what we intrinsically feel will aid us in our recovery, even if it’s something stupid, like take a really hot shower while slumped down in the bathtub or stall. I’m not a fan of this remedy, I’ve never done it and never will. That kind of shit will dehydrate you like anything, but there are those who swear to it.

This is not a PSA about how getting wasted is a-okay. It’s more of a rumination of how people who have had a “little too much” deal with getting through it and to their sober stage. You’re in high school, then college, and enter into young adulthood, and finally become “mature” (30’s onwards) and hear all these theories about how best to prevent a hangover. There are myriad fairy tales about how if you do X or Y, you will feel okay the next day! Hooray!

I have found that all that, at least for me, is bullshit. The only surefire way is not to get to that point in the first place. Which sounds fantastic and healthy and very Zen until you meet up with your friends for a night out. Then all bets are off. Fortunately? Unfortunately? I don’t know. I guess it depends on how the night unfolds and what stories you have to relay later, once the bright light of day (always painful!) wakes you up into your everyday, sober life.