this weekend, a college girlfriend called to inform me that she had kept a journal of our nights out, our senior year at KU. this is incredible to me, because we went out a lot our senior year.
she found it, the other day, and had to share with me one of her entries. it said this:
“went to game. tailgated at mcb’s. went to the crossing, the wheel, the hawk, quinton’s, and west. home early.”
home early? what? because we left before they actually kicked everyone out of the bar? home early, as in, we made it home before someone puked? or because we remember getting home? home early because we didn’t go to an after party?
if i tailgated and then hit five bars today…i would be speaking a language no one could possibly understand. not even me.
i’m jealous of my old tolerance levels. today, if i have a 6% beer, i can feel it. one martini and i’m halfway to the end of the night. doing a shot? i just threw up in my mouth a little bit writing those words.
what happened? i’m only 30 and i still drink. i’m not sure why i’ve become such a pansy when it comes to alcohol, while my 50 year old uncle can drink me under the table. and did, last christmas. while i managed to puke in his son’s bed. about 10 minutes after i gave my cousin a ‘no honk guarantee’. whoops.
i used to be able to go out from about noon to closing time (2am) and then hit another house party after that. for a while, my junior year, the night wasn’t over unless i had made an appearance at the phi delt house and yelled on their megaphone for a little bit. i’m not making this up. they also had a plastic bowling kit that i was obsessed with. i wasn’t the only one.
some of my favorite parts of college happened the day after a great night of going out. my girlfriends and i would get together over a healthy breakfast, like a breaded chicken sandwich and onion rings from burger king, and piece the night together. and laugh. laugh until we cried. and we’d have jokes we talk about for the rest of college. and people would get new nicknames. one of my favorites was ‘zane the pain, in the bathtub, i’m drowning’. “(no idea what that means. but i do know that this guy was as dumb as a rock and at one point, actually u-locked his bike to the fire hydrant in his frat house. brilliant.)
one night, after a house party, we woke up the next morning to a car parked in the front yard. who’s car? who knows. they weren’t there anymore. but apparently, they really had to park as close to the front door as possible.
another morning, we woke up to the coffee table a couple other pieces of furniture in the front yard. it was to make more room for the dance party, but none of us remembered that at the time. we thought we’d been robbed, until we opened the front door.
i’ve got evidence of us attempting to make a music video at 2:30am. i’m wearing leather pants. yes, leather. there was no pleather in our closets. we were classy.
i regularly had bruises i couldn’t explain. i went on multiple pub crawls in a u-haul. as in, the back of the u-haul. some mornings, i’d grab the paper on my way up the sorority house steps, on my way to bed.
and what are the morning-after’s like now? me, on the couch, curtains drawn, with my same healthy breakfast. not laughing. no new nicknames. no random car in the front yard. just me, my husband, and our crappy hangovers. which take the entire day to cure.
i feel old. because i can’t drink like i used to? yes. you might think this is pretty immature. and it is. but let’s remember who’s writing this. i have a business called ‘durtbagz‘ that designs fake street signs on satchels and messenger bagz. i can quote ‘the big lebowski’ quite well. i once cut mullets for three friends on april fool’s day. i used to walk through the mall with my beach towell around my neck like a cape. why? because it’s fun. why do you think all the superheros wear them? not because they make you fly, i’ll tell you that right now.
so, there’s my rant for today. wishing i could drink like i did before i was legally able to. who’s with me?