Well tonight was the night. Backing up from last night's test night, tonight was the sort of mindless drinking sloppiness I'm really trying to avoid. Fancy dinner. Think you're a bit special. Why yes, my good man, I would like another drink, thank you.
It wasn't without its challenge at the beginning. Everyone, and I mean everyone, had a drink at the table. And they kept coming and coming.
But to be honest, apart from the initial pang, sort of like a joke, I didn't miss it as I was eating my food. And then after the 3 courses, and people started to get a little messy, I really didn't miss it.
Several hours into this drinking binge, things got really messy. As Russell Crowe said when he was off the grog training, It certainly gives you a different perspective. People were just smashed. Shots appeared. People drank them. More, down the hatch. Speech slurred, people insulted, pissed eyes, hysterical laughter. The whole group self administering this drug that brought some of them close to the edge.
Meanwhile, I'm observing. Not missing out at all thanks very much. Fat blokes in suits on the dance floor who should be shot. Pissed girls staggering about in short skirts (not all bad). Metro types with hair styles that must have taken all day to get right.
The witching hour was well and truly upon me when I left, weaving through these myriad hangovers in the waiting, broken Saturdays beckoning. All going full speed ahead as I drove home, slowing only to swerve past one drunk who I swear had passed out in the middle of a lane on a busy road in the middle of the city, friends anxiously trying to pull him over the gutter.
Surely we were cooler when we were younger. But then, I don't really think so.
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