I Ruined My Son’s Birthday Party
But, it really wasn’t my fault, was it?
When our son, David, turned thirty, it was time for a celebration. Our daughter-in-law, Rianne, planned pizza at the house, followed by a party bus to take all the guests to a club in Ferndale. When Rianne throws a party, the booze flows — the drinks are strong and the servings huge. She made a pitcher of my favorite chocolate martinis and some concoction made with rum. There were probably other options too, but I wasn’t paying attention to them. Not with my chocolate martinis available!
We started with several types of pizza — I had one with mushrooms. And I had a few (more than a few?) chocolate martinis (served in a sixteen-ounce Dixie cup). My husband, Larry, and I and Rianne’s parents were the only “old people” present. But, when it was time for the party bus, they left and we continued on to the club. Bad choice!
I must have already had one too many drinks because they told me (I truly don’t remember) I shimmied on the pole in the middle of the bus! A sixty-something woman with a busload of thirty-year-olds! Oy!
But I wasn’t feeling sick and continued to drink those martinis until the pitcher was empty. Then Rianne poured me a rum drink. Isn’t there a rule about mixing your liquor? I should have paid attention!
When we arrived at the club, we were shown to an area with couches and waitress service. I don’t think I ordered anything else to drink. I went to the bathroom. I needed to pee after all that liquid, but instead, I leaned over the toilet and vomited. I think I felt better after that.
Everyone started to dance, and Larry and I went out to the dance floor. Since we weren’t up on the latest moves, we did our own version. We didn’t look too stupid; I don’t think. But all that wiggling and jiggling mixed up the liquor still in my bloodstream, and I needed to barf again. So, back to the bathroom.
This time, I don’t remember much except that I sat on the floor hugging the dirty public toilet bowl, puking my guts out. I couldn’t keep my head up, and I remember forcing myself not to lay my cheek on the porcelain! After only a few minutes (I think), a tall man in a business suit was standing over me in the ladies’ room stall, checking to see if I was alright. Then he asked me to leave the club!
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one in our group who was sick. A couple of David’s friends were also puking and sick. After less than an hour in the club, the entire party piled back onto the bus. David’s party was ruined!!
But, all of us who got sick had eaten the mushroom pizza, and I’m sure that’s what made us all ill. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it!
