You are the first one ever to make me tipsy. I’ve had my share of Mr. Johnny Walker, Jose Cuervo, Chivas, J & B and the Captain but they never made me tipsy. You did though so my hat’s off to you.
Now, before anything else, I am not a drunk. In fact, I am what you would call a selective drinker. My limit is two full bottles of beer, three shots of hard liquor and one for every other kind of spirit. I have seen firsthand through my father the bad effects of alcohol and since then, I have resolved to never ever be under its influence. Though alcohol greases the stories and the laughter, it also has its bad side… a very ugly side.
First things first though. I will admit that I am writing this after getting tipsy with Mr. Jack. And tomorrow is Easter. Call it what you will.
The circumstances are the following. After going to the pool (which had artificial waves, however which really gave a great impression of a beach sans the sand), four of us got together to open a bottle brewed by Mister Jack. I have a high tolerance for alcohol. In the few instances I partook in social drinking sessions, I was always the last sober man standing. It is perhaps due to a calculative method of imbibing the spirits or maybe just because I have a high physical threshold.
Anyway, the first round was good. Bitter and repulsive as always (which is also one of the reasons I hate drinking), I gulped it down.
Second round, a friend mistakenly added more to my glass. And being a member of the male species, I had to man up and drink it. I am guessing now that this is the culprit. Since I usually ration my drink, perhaps the added volume created the undesired effect I feel now. The moment I stood up after draining my glass, I had to sidestep. My head was woozy and I felt light headed.
I still had my mind though, and part of me was incredulous and surprised by the effect. It was the first time (and hopefully the last time) that I felt that way.
Still, trusting in my own judgment, I partook of the third to the fifth round. My judgment was still there (though I have to admit that my laughter was getting more lubricated). By that time, my buddies were obviously hit with alcoholic stupor. I kinda breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that the bottle was emptied at last.
And then we had to troop up the stairs to eat.
Well, let me tell you. I had a hard time steadying my gait. And there was a moment of panic and morbid glee at the realization that I might just have been intoxicated enough to wobble. Since it was the first time, I was astounded. There is denial in your mind when that happens. After all, your mind is working clearly but your body seems to have a mind of its own.
Well, to make the story short, my buddies are passed out now and I am here in front of my laptop to chronicle this event.
It is a once in a lifetime event (I hope) and quite frankly, it is funny. It makes me sleepy and I am fighting the desire to go under the covers.
I’m gonna post this on my blog. Perhaps as a reminder or as an anecdote to be shared. I don’t know.
And for you dear reader, I won’t tell you not to drink coz we all have to at some point in our lives (the wine on the mass still qualifies as liquor, you know, as is the root beer you drink). Spirits are the lubricant of social conversation, for most instances after all.
So my advice is this: stay away from Mr. Jack. (It makes me wonder though, how I would describe its effect on me now. Technically I am not drunk, ain’t I? Since I still have my mental faculties and I can still control my gait and I don’t think I’ll be drooling any time soon. I am just too sleepy and my head feels very light.)