The Hangover Scale
An improved classification for the mess of the morning after
As I sat at home this morning grasping a cup of coffee and gazing out over the murky gray of Puget Sound, I found myself reflecting upon the nature of one of the most reassuring and yet painful aspects of adulthood — the hangover.
My family had asked me a simple question: “How are you feeling?” It should have been easy to answer. And yet I was left grappling for an adequate response. I was definitely “under the weather” — but exactly how far under was harder to describe.
It occurs to me that this is one area of our everyday lives that could benefit immensely from a standard scale. A one that it both easy to grasp and unambiguous in its classification.
Scales are common place elsewhere . We use a simple four-point scale in many restaurants to describe the level of spice associated with a dish — ranging from a rather watery one all the way up to a bowel-shattering four. In the medical field we have all adjusted to describing our level of pain against a ten-point scale. Handy charts and graphics are on hand to help us assign our level of infirmity from a pimply one up to a near-death ten. (Although it strikes me as unlikely that a walk-in patient would be sufficiently lucid to self-ascribe their crippling pain as a ten.)
Which brings me back to the common hangover. It’s something that most of us are very accustomed to, and definitely an experience that comes with varying levels of discomfort. And yet when asked “How bad is your hangover?” we all have to fumble around in the dark, searching for suitably descriptive yet non-expletive ways of communicating how we feel. Why not have a standard scale that is both easy to understand and easy to use?
I propose the following straightforward five-point scale:
One — Mild conditions; subtle, lurking headache; easily remedied with coffee and nourishment
Two — Troublesome headache; dry mouth; not shaken off by single dose of painkiller; demanding food and strong coffee
Three — A real pain; stabbing headache; sandpaper mouth; food not appealing; bright light uncomfortable
Four — Serious pain; anvil headache; stomach churning; conversation to be avoided; over-the-counter painkillers not working; set in for the day
Five — Wanting to die; bisecting headache; vomiting imminent; dark shrouded world closing in
As I reflect on this morning’s experience I’d say I was probably up at a two. Coffee and bagels have done the trick — and I’m ready to face the world again. Hopefully it’s a long time before I have to endure anything up at a four or a five again.
