I went to a part at a friend's house, a BYOB sort of deal...everyone else brought something pretty cheap, while I'd gone out and bought a brand new bottle of Jacques Cardin Cognac.
I love cognac.
I also love the Mets.
They were playing that day, against the Dodgers.
I decided to make a drinking game out of it.
Now, any fan of the Met will tell you that most nights, basing a drinking game around how many hits and runs the Mets tally is pretty safe...
THIS night, the Mets, behind Ike Davis, David Wright, and R.A. Dickey's great pitching, won 8-0 and had upward of 20 hits or so, if I recall.
That bottle was thus half gone in 2 hours.
AND I was doing tequila shots as well, because hey, if someone else was doing it, I wasn't going to be the guy who passed up a challenge...
...because, of course, when you're downing that much cognac that fast, the EXACT thing you need is even MORE alcohol, and of another kind to boot.
About 2.5 hours into the party, this starts to all hit, and I get the vague idea that maybe, just maybe that was too much, too soon...that I should slow it down...
And what better way to do THAT than play some beer pong! Because, like, beer's not as strong as cognac or tequila, so that's totally OK, downing cup after cup of THAT won't impair me THAT much, right?
EXACTLY!
So off I go, and I don't know how to beer pong to begin with, and at that I'm *somehow* having trouble aiming in a straight line, or standing in a straight line, or standing now, for that matter, so I keep having to take a drink...
But it's OK, because I told myself I had a fool-proof method of telling whether I've had too much to drink--
I reasoned that as long as I could recite Shakespeare from memory still, well, I couldn't be THAT impaired...I mean, if *I* couldn't remember Hamlet, then yeah, I'm obviously too impaired, but as long as I can remember it--I'm totally cool to drink more, right?
RIGHT!
So it's a drunken performance of "Macbeth" going on in this friends' garage, and I have to tell you, I was giving the loudest, most sincere performance of the Scottish Play...
Friends have gathered round as they hear TOMORROW... AND TOMORROW! ...AND *TOMORROW!* OH, YEAH, AND TOMORROW, CREEPS, OH, CREEPS IN THIS PETTTTTYYYYY PAAAAACE...
And the last thing I remember is finishing up--A TALE TOLD BY AN IDIOT! indeed!--and then...
Head-first onto the pavement of the guy's garage.
Wake up hours later underneath a bed.
Told "We put you ON it, but you crawled UNDER it for some reason."
Puked.
Haven't been to that guy's place since. :p
(Though I did apologize, and mean it...I mean, getting drunk is one thing, but I do hate to make a mess...that's just not right...I mean, hey, Iago was a bastard--in more ways than one--but he never puked on a guy's floor.)
Aaaaaaand Curtain.
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Snail Mail Diplomacy
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