Sometimes I Miss the Rum in My Rum Punch...

Remember when you were in college? Some of you, maybe not. Anything and everything was an excuse to get drunk. I realize some of the details may be kinda fuzzy for a few of you. Myself included. (Highlander, you are excused from this conversation.)

Finals are over = Keg party.
Friday night movie = Strawberry Dacquiris.
Halloween Ghost Run = Kamikazi's until you pass out (hopefully the car is stopped when this happens).
Flat Tire = Bottle of wine your roommate stashed away.
Hey, It's Tuesday! = Bloody Mary's for breakfast.

That's right. A little wouldn't do it. The stress, the horror, that was college, required that we do it full-on. You could just forget about learning curves or acclimation when it came to the liquor.

I think about how little I had to worry about then. Sure, yeah, homework and some little nothing job, maybe some relationship stuff. We were young. Life hadn't even BEGUN to kick us in the gut. No financial issues (student loans were eons away), no health issues (other than the hangovers), none of the responsibilities of being grown-ups. Yet we had to stay as drunk as we could, as often as we could. I don't know about you guys, but I'm pretty sure it was a rule at my school.

Have you ever had to ask someone if you had a good time at a party or not? Have you ever thanked someone for giving you a ride home, only to have them tell you they didn't? Have you ever awakened the next day to find you're in someone else's clothes and you have no idea where yours are? Have you ever had to apologize for puking in someone's closet? Have you ever combined gin and over the counter cherry cough syrup and called it a mixed drink? Have you ever staggered into someone's really expensive stereo equipment and totalled it? Have you ever had mysterious contusions the morning after you'd been a drunken spectacle, that you just couldn't explain? Have you ever...well...you get the point...

Wisdom comes slow. Slower to some than to others, unfortunately. (Oh, and I'm not responsible for all of the aforementioned shenanigans myself, either. Some of them were done by friends. Honest injun.)

Now, I don't drink so much anymore...else I'm pretty sure I'd be dead. I'm too old, I think. I mean, really, does anybody want to see some old drunk bitches laying in a gutter passed out? Yeah, I didn't think so. I still enjoy it every once in a while, and, luckily, the hangovers aren't quite as brutal as they used to be. (Most likely because I don't indulge in it to NEARLY the excess that I once did.) Oh, I still think about it from time to time. After a particularly bad day at work, I'll often joke about going home and getting loaded. But it is a joke.

Over this past weekend, I was recalling a particular incident that happened 26 years ago, and found myself amazed at my young self's capacity for stupidity.

I guess I've grown up. Even though, some of the drunken memories I have are pleasant enough, too many others are embarrassing or frightening, and it brings me little joy to think of reliving any of them.

Now, I can't see myself being one of those folks who lectures everyone else on the evils of drinking. EGADS!, I hate those people.

But, remembering how difficult it was to quit smoking cigarettes (finally) nearly nine years ago, whatever else I did, I did NOT want to be one of those women telling everyone else to quit. Your choice, people. I ain't running your lives. Ditto with the liquor. In fact, have a cigarette and a drink for me! (To properly recreate it, it should be a menthol cig and either an amaretto sour or something fruity with Bacardi in it. The paper umbrella is totally optional.) But for God's sake, don't throw up in your best friend's purse. (It's a great friend who offers it.) Have a little more dignity than that.