There's Got To Be A Morning After
Happy New Year!
OK, now that I've gotten that out of my system . . .
My New Year's Eve was fun. I didn't end up getting off from work 'til late, because five minutes before we locked the door a party of twelve came in and was seated in my section. I was kind of pissed because I was almost finished wrapping everything up and I was preparing to rip my apron off, holler "Yabba dabba doo!" and race out the door.
"Don't you people have a party to get ready for or something? Losers!" I thought distainfully.
Because of them, I didn't end up leaving the restauant 'til 10:30 or so. Then it was a mad race to change my clothes, do my hair and get where we were going before the ball dropped.
- I'm coming up, so you better get this party started!
As long as I was with the husband, anywhere was fine with me.
We got to our first destination, Leon's, at 11:30, and by 11:35 I had a Long Island Iced Tea in one paw, a noisemaker clutched in the other, a plastic glass of champagne in front of me, and a party hat on my head.
Just to ensure I don't bore you too much, here's a summary of the rest of the night:
Drinks hastily drunk, PDAs with the husband, ball drops, "Happy New Year!", champagne is drunk, kisses and hugs all around, more drinks, off to another bar, shots of various liquors consumed, more drinks, more PDAs with the husband, over to another bar, more drinks, and then home for more champagne and (eventually) sleep.
When I got to work the next afternoon, everyone was playing the usual "morning after" games, which are always very popular on New Year's Day. You know what they are -- you probably played them yourself at one point or another.
There's one I call "Cocktail" where you tell how many of what drinks you consumed the night before. It usually starts with the phrase "I got so drunk last night!" (or a variation therof), and then the speaker launches into their alcoholic shopping list, "I had three beers, then a whiskey sour, then a half a bottle of champagne, then Debbie ordered us double shots of tequila, and then I had another whiskey sour, then a shot of Jager, then a Mind Eraser, and the next thing I know I'm passed out on the bar with my head in a puddle of my own drool!"
Fun, huh? With the right storyteller, this can be very entertaining.
Then there's the game I call "Hangover", which usually begins with the phrase, "Oh, my achin' head!" It's basically a list of all the symptoms of why you feel like death warmed over from partying too much the night before. ("Cocktail" and "Hangover" go hand in hand.)
"Oh, God!" they wail to anybody that will listen, "My head is pounding like it's about to burst! I'm so nauseated, my stomach is all twisted up in knots! I feel like I've swallowed razer blades! I hurt all over! I want to die!" This is sometimes punctuated by a statement where the speaker vows to "never drink (that much) again", but don't you believe it. They don't even believe it themselves.
Although I've gleefully done this in times past myself, I don't like this one very much. Neither does anyone else.
Then theres one I call "I'm No Alcoholic". It's not as wildly popular as the two I stated above, but it has some very avid followers. It's where someone emphatically makes a point of stating that they didn't drink a drop of alcohol last night, they just "spent a quiet evening at home" and "went to bed early". Maybe they "watched a little TV" or perhaps they "curled up with a good book", but they certainly didn't party. Heavens to Betsy, no!
This information is delivered with a self-righteous smirk, as if to say, "Other people might get drunk and go crazy and act like total lunatics, but not me. I'm above all of that".
I never, ever go that route. It smacks of pomposity (if not sanctimony), and I try never to act that way. They're your brain cells, who am I to tell you you shouldn't kill 'em all if you want to?
Anyhoo, it's 2005! I wonder what's going to happen this year?
There's only one way to find out.