I laid in bed like that for close to an hour before my cell phone rang. It was Molly calling. Anyone else and I would've just tried to kill my phone under a pile of pillows. When she calls I answer. Even though I felt I may be on my deathbed.
So there's the phone ringing, interrupting my thoughts of calling in a priest for either my last rites or an exorcism. Possibly both. Of course, my ringer isn't the standard iPhone ring. Nope, it's "Shipping Up To Boston" by Dropkick Murphys. At full volume. Most of you have heard the song even if you're not familiar with the band. It's the song that plays in the Sam Adams beer commercials.
Ordinarily I'd say my phone doesn't ring overly loud. But when you're suffering this kind of pre-aneurysm headache it seems I'm at the front row of one of their concerts. This is one of the only times I don't instantly smile when I see she's calling me. Of course, I started to smile as I answered, Herculean effort that that was.
Knowing my predicament on this mercifully overcast morning she spoke louder than normal in starting the conversation with, "how's that hangover feel, Touchet?!" Sweet as she is, she cares. Knowing it was self induced, she cares loudly. Because I deserve this hangover. It was well earned in my opinion.
Since I remember the events of the night I'm inclined to agree that it I earned it. My roommate laughed earlier recounting to me that he quit drinking when (after having had several Half and Halfs) I called out, "hey, let's make it more interesting. Let's play for shots".
Now, let's start off with that delicious concoction for those of you wine drinkers out there. The bartender takes a pint glass and fills it halfway with Harp. A nice, light lager from the Harp brewery in Ireland. Then they use a spoon to gently pour Guinness on top so that the denser stout sits atop it nicely. So you've got 2 different colors and flavor profiles.
Initially you get that beautiful Guinness taste then it slows mixes with the Harp. Another variation is called a Black and Tan. Instead of using Harp they use Bass. All three are from the Harp Brewery and are equally delicious and ideal depending on the circumstance.
Anyway, back to last night. I've not really played pool in nearly a decade. I've not played competitively for about 15 years. I certainly wasn't expecting to win very much last night. So why play for drinks? Well, why not. Some people seem to think I'm borderline sociopath because of my "social skills". You know, that thing I do that's like Tourette's where I just say what I'm thinking. It's either that or stand back and exercise my right to remain silent so as not to risk offending anyone.
So I thought I'd just try to relax the mood. Mostly for myself. I just wanted to play a little pool and not be all stiff and nervous. On the bright side, I relaxed. On the down side, I "relaxed" for about 10 games or so. At a drink a game. I had all kinds of drinks thrust at me. Some were shots, sons were some manner of mixed liquor drinks.
I managed to go from "relaxed" to "inebriated" from 9 at night until 2 in the morning for a grand total of $12.00. Well done me. Then I was, indeed, well done.
I had fun though. I made some new friends. People I can hang out and play pool with.
But there's still the matter of these nasty allergies. Maybe it's because I'm just too old to go out drinking and enjoy myself. I should've stayed home and watched some History channel like they're childhood movies. "Ah, yes, I remember those days. Back when I was a wee lad and this whole 'Pilgrims venturing off to the New World' thing was just getting underway."
Or maybe I'm just allergic to hangovers. Personally, I thought playing for drinks instead of paying for drinks was an ingenious idea. Actually drinking more than was intended, however, was a bad decision. Now that I've got a hangover and I made a bad choice I've probably developed PTSD.
I know that loud noises, movement, even opening my eyes feels kinda traumatic at the moment. Does that qualify me? Stress? Yeah, I've got that too today. Many stressful questions like "so how am I supposed to survive if I can't get up to make French toast. Or even PopTarts? Am I going to die today? It feels like I might."
So I lie here, on the verge of death from this...this alcohol allergy. Aspirin, Gatorade, coffee and sunglasses all waiting for me in the kitchen. If only I could manage to crawl that far.