Monday, March 24, 2008

• A hangover is the wrath of grapes.

  Being a second-shift worker with morning on-call duty twice a week, I very rarely get the opportunity to go out with my friends. This fact is only exacerbated by the simple fact that I don't have any friends in the town that I'm living in these days; but that's another post altogether. Self deprecation aside, this weekend the planets aligned and I actually had a Friday and Saturday off for the first time in two months. So, to take advantage of this momentous occasion, Fiance and I packed up and headed to Chicago to visit some old friends from high school. And, although he and I aren't big partiers these days, old friends inevitably means bar-hopping and unnecessary levels of alcohol consumption.
  
  In college, I could count on going out several nights a week. My social life was higher on my priority list than anything else in my life. This changed radically over the course of the momentous week in June in which I graduated, moved across the Midwest, and started my first "real-world" job over the course of three hectic days. Since then, I can count on my fingers the number of times I've actually ventured outside of my little bubble to socialize. Due to this lack of exposure, I can honestly say I see the bar scene in a new light. And, I must admit, I noticed a few things I had never previously considered.
  
  First of all, I noticed that I become really overwhelmed when I'm at a bar that has a ridiculous number of beer selections. I've never been much of a connoisseur; and I think it's safe to say that I have pretty low standards. If I'm spending a ton of money on a drink, I want it to be something I'm certain to enjoy. And, judging by the fact that I spent the previous four years of my life consuming mystery beer out of a red plastic cup, chances are I'm not horribly picky to begin with. If they could serve it up with just a hint of ping pong ball residue, I'd probably be that much more comfortable.
  
  Then comes the inevitable round of shots which are pivotal to the reunion celebration. I hate doing shots. Always. I used to do them all of the time without any problems. Then I went to Mexico for Spring Break and my life was forever changed. In addition to the immediate gag reflex every time I smell liquor, I always seem to get a stray chunk of ice in my shot glass. Being a person who can't even take an ibuprofen without coughing like a cat with a hairball, the ice chip kind of makes me panic for a split second. Then, I finally relax enough to choke it down, remember how much I completely abhor SoCo and lime, and sort of wish I had choked to death anyway.
  
  Furthermore, I don't know how people can afford to go out so much. Going out this one weekend just about wiped me out until next pay day: and I didn't even pay for most of it. This is probably just because I have a job in the nonprofit sector and somehow the feeling that one is making a difference is supposed to make up for the unpaid bills and ramen noodle diet. In any case, I have a hard time paying $4.50 for a PBR. Not only is that a lot of money for something that tastes like dirty water, but $4.50 is such an awkward price. I know how hard the bartender works, so I feel bad tipping only fifty cents. But I can't justify paying $6 per drink. In the end, I usually just get two. People think I'm trying to be a badass by double fisting, but I know I just have a natural tendency toward even numbers.
  
  All in all, I can honestly say that I had a good time going out in the city with some old friends. People were surprised to see us, partially because we don't live in the city and partially because we have a serious penchant for staying home EVERY weekend. And it's a good thing too, because the next time I'll have saved up enough money and vacation time for another weekend off, I'll probably be putting it towards something for our wedding. Just remind me at the reception that I don't like SoCo and lime and even if I did, I'm still paying for that shot in one way or another: be it monetarily and/or the next morning.
  
  

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