...but you must've eventually gone back for the free beer, right?I might've already posted about this before...
3 to 11 shift going home, Michigan dead of winter, fellow 3-11 worker, car frozen. It won't open, cigarette lighters unhelpful, peeing on lock made it worse much worse.
The deal was drive him to the bar where his GF worked, I did.
Went inside, I don't remember the reason, probably dead of winter, and they were "closing", which in the case of some bars apparently means staff remains til all remaining alcohol has been consumed.
Sat at table with buncha bars employees. "Here!" a free Budweiser. "Here!" a free shot of Jack. Barely get the Bud finished, "Here!" and "Here!", another Bud, another shot.
I was raised to be polite, which in my case used to mean having no idea how to say "no". Plus, I had not eaten all day and the alcohol, the molecules of which which pass unhindered directly from the bloodstream into brain cells, began to interfere with my judgment as was the concept of free booze.
We were there a long time, much longer obviously than necessary for me to hold up my end of the bargain, getting drunker and drunker each minute. I found myself in a condition I didn't know how to deal with. The roads were very dangerous. I wondered if someone was gonna have to drive me, I didn't need this, I was tired, had no energy - no food all day! - only wanted to get back to the apartment.
When I finally arose I remember making a mental note of the time for posterity. It was 3:30am. We'd been drinking obsessively for almost four hours. The fellow worker followed me out to my car. He was sincerely worried, and asked me if I was alright to drive, and I don't remember what else he said if anything. I heard myself unintentionally abusing the English language meaning to answer, "Oh yeah, I'll be fine", and thinking Just lemme sit down behind the wheel and maybe I'll remember how to drive and where I live.
Chose expressway because it was salted. But could only see three, four, five lanes, not even just two, not to mention just one. Hadda work hard to remain upright. Work hard to keep track of my speed because glancing down from the road to see the speedometer then back up must've taken oh ten seconds each time. And half the time I would miss the speedometer and still have no idea of my speed since I couldn't tell if I was crawling along or flying. Came up with what I considered at the time a brilliant way to stay in one lane: I would close one eye and watch with it for a while, then give that eye rest by closing it and switching to the other eye. The incorporation of this process was the only way I had a chance of arriving home, which I finally did.
I couldn't get any of the keys to work on the apartment door. I tried them all. I finally realized I was gonna have to break into my own apartment despite having the key right there. How pitiful.
Yep, spent a long time on the bathroom floor, my body trying desperately to die. Try to lie on the bed, room starts twirling like a merry-go-round, back to the toilet, yay. I remember lying there visualizing my liver actually disintegrating, chunks of it entering my bloodstream and floating away.
I did indeed decide that night that I would never drink like that again, that I'd never get that drunk again, and I haven't. Rock bottom is there for a reason.