Booze Banter

I’m Never Drinking Again!

After a hard night of drinking, we’ve all woken up the next morning and uttered the phrase “I’m never drinking again!”. At the very least we’ve all said that we’ll never drink <insert alcohol type that did you in here> again. Though they don’t involve a self-extracted tooth, a tiger, Zach Galifianakis, or even a trip to Vegas, here are five “I’m Never Drinking Again!” moments of my very own:

  • Three Guys, A Hi-Fi, and a Fifth of Absolut Citron, Summer 1984: The summer before senior year in high school, The Rick, two other friends, and I decided to throw a Hawaiian party. Since one of us had a connection at Giordano’s in South Philly’s Italian Market, we were able to get a case of fresh coconuts (The Rick turned them into glasses with the help of his Dad’s bandsaw) and a case of Dole “Jet Fresh” pineapples from Hawaii. The plan was to make Pina Coladas from scratch using the coconut milk, fresh pineapple, and of course, lots of rum. Two nights before the party, we had to move some stereo equipment from one house to another. For whatever reason, we came up with the brilliant idea of drinking Absolut Citron on the rocks while we did this. The silliness started around 5PM and ended by 7PM. Guzzling straight Absolut on an empty stomach was a horrible idea. I somehow managed to walk home and the last thing I remember was passing out in my bed and waking up the next morning with a wicked hangover. I learned a valuable lesson… never trust a spirit you can’t taste!
  • The Way Too Many Margaritas/Reverse Beer Goggles Incident, Summer 1986: Let’s begin this tale with a definition. Per the Urban Dictionary, beer goggles is defined as a “phenomenon in which one’s consumption of alcohol makes physically unattractive persons appear beautiful”. The exact opposite occurred while having several post work margaritas at Copabanana (4th and South Street in Philadelphia). I was working two jobs during the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college. Monday through Friday I worked as a teller at a credit union, and I would work as a waiter at a South Street cafe on Saturdays and Sundays. After working an eight hour shift at the cafe, I met up with a friend at Copa for dinner and drinks. Their margaritas are served in a shaker that will serve at least two margaritas. When we first arrived, we were both pleased to see that our waitress was highly attractive. We ordered our first round and some food (Spanish fries and burgers are their specialties). The booze, food, and pretty waitress had us in a great mood, so we ordered another round… and another… and another. The margaritas were hitting me pretty hard, but by the time I realized this, it was already too late (we ordered at least 7 shakers). Slurred speech, double vision, and our pretty waitress was losing her luster rapidly! I desperately wanted to get home and crawl into bed. Once again, I had to walk home, but this time, instead of just a couple blocks, I had to travel at least a mile. I made it home in one piece, but I doubt I made it to my bed. Since this all happened on a Sunday, I was due at my other job at 9AM on Monday. It was a very slow and painful morning. I distinctly remember the long walk to the restroom on several occasions while at work. Those long, narrow hallways were very challenging. I stayed away from margaritas for a year or two after this incident.
  • Fetzer Sundial Chardonnay, Glenlivet 12, and A Mountain Of Cheese Don’t Mix, Fall 1988: The Rick was seeing a very tall Danish girl (she was 6’2″, while The Rick and I are under 5’10”) that lived in a fabulous apartment in the Queen Village section of Philadelphia. One Sunday evening, they invited me to join them for some drinks. The Rick and I picked up an assortment of fine cheese and bread. The Dane supplied the wine (three bottles of Fetzer Sundial Chardonnay). It was a Sunday night, and I had to be at work in the morning (I was working in Delaware at the time, which was a 45 minute drive down I-95), so I  planned to  take it easy. Yet another stupid plan! Good food, good wine, and many laughs are a deadly combination. We managed to work our way through several types of cheese, two loafs of french bread, and three bottles of wine. I think the food delayed the effects of the alcohol, because we then moved on to a bottle of Glenlivet 12. The rest of the night is a blur. There may have been some dancing and we may have broken a futon. Though it was a great night overall, the next morning was brutal. Since I was working for an insurance company at the time, I had to look presentable in the morning. I somehow managed to cut my nose with a razor while shaving. Though I looked ridiculous with a bandaged nose, I did get to do my Jack Nicholson/Jake Giddes imitation throughout the day when asked what happened to my nose.
  • I Probably Shouldn’t Have Had That 4th Manhattan, Winter 2002: One of the departments at work invited my office to their annual holiday party, which was held at the Hotel Sofitel in Center City Philadelphia. For whatever reason, I was the only person from my office that could attend. Under normal circumstances, I would have skipped it, but I instead opted to fly solo. I’ve been to several of their parties, but this was by far the best one that I ever attended. There were numerous appetizers being walked around by the wait staff, and the open bar was a REAL open bar, i.e. any beer, wine, or top shelf liquor that you wanted. Since it was a fairly low turnout, I managed to secure a seat at the bar. Cocktails and martinis appeared to be the drink of choice that night, so I went with a Maker’s Mark Manhattan. I love a well made Manhattan, but it’s a very potent drink which goes down way too easily. The food, drink, and conversations were flowing freely that night. I polished off three Manhattans in under two hours, and inevitably fell victim to that most dangerous of phrases: “How about just one more?”. So I said, “Sure, why not?”. I felt fine when I left the bar, but the transition from a warm bar, to a very cold outside, and then back to a very warm commuter train, made the alcohol really kick into gear, and that resulted in one of the longest 20 minute train rides of my life. When I finally made it home, I was greeted by my wife and several of her girlfriends. I’m sure I said a few stupid and embarrassing things when I got home. In an effort to minimize the damage, I decided to watch TV in the bedroom and leave the women alone. I know that I fell asleep in my suit within minutes. What I don’t know is how I woke up in my pajamas. Per Mrs. G-LO, I woke up at around 2AM and was apparently quite “handsy”. Since Mrs. G-LO likes her sleep, she wasn’t very happy with me the next morning when she described my behavior. Luckily, she isn’t prone to violence, so I lived to tell the tale.
  • Chinese Food + Way Too Much Single Malt Whisky = Terrible Idea, Fall 2007: Nine of us descended upon The Union League with one purpose: try as many types of whiskies as possible at our first SMSWA Extravaganza! Six of us decided to spend the night in Center City Philadelphia, so driving home was not going to be an issue. We began the festivities in the bar and had a beer or two to get things started. We then moved upstairs for the event which started promptly at 7PM. For 2.5 hours we tried just about everything. At 9:30, The Rick was moving from table to table and taking whisky bottles from any brand representative that was still around, and since the weather was cold and rainy, I don’t think anyone was in a rush to leave, so they were taking their time closing up shop. We probably had two or three additional drams of whisky each after the event was over. We then moved back to the bar on the first floor for more beer, cigars, and billiards. At around 11:00PM, we started to get the munchies. I suggested cheesesteaks, pizza, or some breakfast food at a diner. No one listened. It was decided that we would grab a couple taxis and head to Chinatown. Since it was taking forever to hail a cab, the boys decided to flag down a trolley that was stopped at a red light on the corner of Broad & Sansom Street. The trolley was rented for a wedding that was taking place at a nearby hotel, and there were still two wedding guests on board when we stepped on and tried to negotiate a ride to Chinatown. The drunken couple begged us to get off so that they could get back to their hotel. I distinctly remember the woman saying to us, “You guys look like professionals. Why don’t you just get a cab?”. I’m not sure what kind of professionals she thought we were, but we did get off the trolley and eventually got some cabs for the ride to Chinatown. When we finally made it to the Imperial Inn, we ordered about $150 worth of Chinese food. Chinatown being Chinatown, the wait staff was visibly annoyed with us since we were both drunk and very loud. Whoever was sitting next to me ordered something with salt baked squid and fried noodles which immediately turned my stomach (FYI, I am not a squeamish eater). I had the brilliant idea of ordering a bowl of Hot and Sour Soup. I had one spoonful and immediately stopped eating. Very little of the food was touched. We quickly grabbed some cabs, headed back to The Union League, and called it a night. The Rick and I shared a room. He passed out immediately while I tossed and turned till 4AM with one of the worst headaches of all time. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel too bad in the morning. We met up in the dining room and had a huge breakfast which put us all back on track.

The moral of these stories… Drinking is fun and easy, but you’ll probably pay for it the next morning!

Do you have a favorite “I’m Never Drinking Again!” story? Please share it with us in the comment box below.


14 replies »

  1. Oh, do I ever….

    4th of July weekend, 1985. I was living in Boston and my two best buddies from college (which we were one year removed from) were staying with me. On the 4th we went down to the Esplanade to watch the fireworks and Pops play. So far, so good. After the fireworks we hit the Blind Hog saloon in Salem, about a mile from my house. By the time we closed the saloon we were already well on our way to a good drunk. Of course, all that did was prime us to raid the liquor cabinet back at the house. Vodka, gin, bourbon and tequila were all consumed.

    I woke up the next morning to find, among other things, a signed suicide pact taped to the refrigerator door, my Playboy magazines scattered all over the bedroom and living room, several of my books out on the roof of the porch outside my bedroom window (we apparently had been out there as well) and a half eaten box of Dunkin’ Donuts. That was scary since the store was several blocks away.

    We vowed not drink again, which lasted until about 9pm that evening when we hit the clubs!


  2. Holy Crap! You win. My stories weren’t nearly that colorful. Unless of course you count the “illness” that followed each of my stories. They were practically in technicolor! 🙂


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