Drunken Escapades... Or Not

[the_wanlorn]

So, yeah. Apparently, my ability to hold alcohol?  Is astounding.  Half a bottle of rum, two-and-a-half shots of vodka, a shot of tequila.  Me as a drinker?  Does things like... chases a vodka shot with a glass of rum. And yet, when all the rum was gone, all the vodka was gone,  after Michael Owen and I finished off the tequila, I was still the most sober person there.  Yes, a wee bit drunk.  I'd move my head and it would take a couple milliseconds for the world to catch up with me.  But I could still talk fine, think wonderfully, walk straight. I'm actually pretty disappointed.  I wanted to get absolutely smashed, yet... didn't happen. So, we finished everything off around 11:30PM.  Caitlin was feeling kind of icky, so I took her out to the common room and put in Monkeybone.  Emily was falling down drunk.  Completely and totally wasted.  I helped put her to bed and left Tory in there with her. Then I went out and spent the next half hour talking to Caitlin, calming her down and telling her that she wasn't nearly as bad off as she thought she was, just look at Emily. Midnight rolled around.  Pat - the straightedge we had over to keep an eye on the noise level and tell us to STFU every so often - took over with Caitlin.  Emily stumbled out of her room with Tory in tow, going to sit over the toilet.  Tory meandered over to Jess's room - where the party was - and started bitching about how drunk she was and how sucky it was to be drunksitting.  I, being the compulisve make-sure-everyone-else-is-okay-and-happy-don't-worry-about-yourself person I am, told her to go back into the party and I'd deal with Emily, what with being A) more sober than her, and B) done drinking, anyway (there were still Smirnoffs and Red Bulls mixed with vodka left). I went into the bathroom and sat on the floor next to Emily as she emptied her stomach.  Pulled her hair back and made sure she didn't puke on it, moving her necklace and cleaning it off when it got puke on it.  Pat went out and got a large number of water bottles and brought them back.  I forced water down her so that it would flush everything out.  When she couldn't keep that down, I made her drink a little bit of defizzed coke so that she was at least staying hydrated.  Had her chew on a cracker so there was something in her stomach in hopes that it would soak up whatever was in there.  Well, and so that everytime she threw up, there was something there to come out.  Because she was dry heaving regardless and, personally, I despise dry heaving with a passion. Caitlin came in for a bit to sit with us.  Two!  Two drunks Nire was taking care of at once, ah ah ah!  I reassured her that she was fine.  Really really fine.  She was nowhere near as bad as most of the people in the room.  Aly - second most sober after me, or at least matching me - came out of Jess's room and started kicking people out.  I had Pat walk Caitlin back to her room and told her to stay there and sleep it off if she really thought it was that bad. Michael Owen came in and helped occaisonally.  He was actually seriously helpful and completely adorable.  Except for the time that he leanend over Emily and let loose the most noxious stream of vomit into the toilet and off the side of the toilet onto Emily and I. I puked in my mouth a little bit when that happened. I gave him the trash bin I had in there for Caitlin and told him that he needed to go sit in the common room because I couldn't handle two people puking.  It's one thing when the person's curled around the toilet, their head right there.  It's entirely different when the person is leaning OVER the person curled around the toilet and splashing stomach matter and rotten alcohol onto you. But can I say right now?  That I love Michael Owen?  He apologized four thousand times for doing that and left when I asked him to.  And kept apologizing.  And kept making sure that I was okay and didn't need a break or anything.  We kicked him out after a while, trying to empty the room of non-suitemates.  He came back once, and when I told him that I really couldn't let him back in, he went away without a fuss. From time to time, Aly would come in to check on us and tell me how "big of [me]" this was cuz she knew how I felt about Emily.  That was appreciated because, really.  It was a pain in the ass and they did all feel really bad about not helping me. Anyway.  2:30 skipped to meet me.  Emily seemed done and about ready to pass out.  I dragged her out of the bathroom and sat her down on the floor next to a trash can.  Which she immediately dryheaved into.  Pat and I stacked the furniture up and got her comforter and pillow, making her a bed on the floor out here.  Then up I got her again and put her to bed on the makeshift bed.  She puked in the trashcan once more and passed out. Neither Pat nor I wanted to leave her there alone, justincase.  So I grabbed Pat and I pillows and he set up on the floor next to her, I sat on the loveseat with my laptop.  Tom was apparently still awake when I IMed him, so for the next hour I babbled to him about everything under the sun.  I dropped the Brita filter full of water on the floor, mopped it up, then drank a pitcher full of water.  No hangovers for me!  Then he went to bed, so I lay down and, well slept for a while. A couple hours later, Pat left.  The people in Jess's room left.  Stacy went into my room and crashed on my bed.  I checked on everyone once more and went into my room and crashed on the place that I sleep. This morning I woke up and it was a joyous 11AM.  No hangover.  Emily feels and looks like shit, which is her own damn fault for drinking that much and not being smart enough to cut herself off, like she kept telling me she had planned to do as I rubbed icecubes over the back of her neck to cool her down while she puked. Aly and I are making a list of people who don't get invited back next time and people who get cut off at some point.  Caitlin's on the former list (nothing is worse than a kid who doesn't drink, is a lightweight, and thinks she's drunker than she is), Emily's on the latter (for obvious reasons). Last night I learned that having a freakishly high tolerance for alcohol isn't necessarily a good thing.  The End.

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