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skinnykitten -> RE: Favorite kind of alcohol? (11/23/2006 11:51:19 PM)
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quote:
ORIGINAL: subfever
You drank a bottle of Jack??? And at age 15???
Geez... you're freaking lucky you're even here to tell us about it... unless you are talking about a half-pint bottle or one of those little airline bottles... [;)]
At age 15, I drank almost 2/3rds of a bottle (quart) of Old Grand Dad (it was the only crap we could steal that night) and was sick for a freaking week. I've never puked so much since, and I couldn't even smell whiskey without gagging for years afterwards.
Ha! The only time I ever got utterly and shamefully legless was courtesy of Jack. Age 18, two-day camping trip one summer... I and 7 others had been planning this trip and looking forward to it for months. The others were all heavy drinkers, and planned to spend the entire 2 days wasted. So, on the way there, and in complete denial as to my ability to handle anything beyond one or two drinks, I rather optimistically bought both a bottle of JD and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red - full size of course, I didn't want to look like a light weight : )
After three hours driving along the beach in a dirty, dusty old four-wheel drive, we got to where we were going at 1pm, and set up camp. Being teenagers and having no self-control whatsoever, we all headed straight for the esky. I started in on the Jack Daniels - much more cautiously than anyone else, I might add - and played esky b*tch for about half an hour. Half a bottle in, everything gets fuzzy. And by fuzzy, I mean blank. I have one memory from when it started to get dark (around 7) of feeling paranoid and thinking someone was going to try and steal my Johnnie Walker, so I walked along the beach for a bit and then buried the (unopened) bottle in the sand. I figured (in my compromised state) that I'd be able to come back and dig it up when I was more capable of defending it. [8|] For whatever reason, I didn't bother putting a marker where I buried it...
The next morning, while I was quietly dying inside my tent, someone popped their head inside and said that everyone was really hungover and had ran out of alcohol and could they have mine? "Go ahead, I'll pay you to take it. I'm never drinking again ...etc". In between pathetic attempts to breathe, and even more dismal attempts to sit up, I explained that I buried it in the sand. Where? "I don't know." Near the campsite, or? "Maybe." I promptly passed out again. I woke up about an hour later, and courted death by risking the two metre crawl to the front door of the tent. I seriously, actually thought I'd never be able to walk again, but I was so damn thirsty I was willing to crawl in the sand for the 100 metres or so to the ocean to drink the sea water... Brave sentiments, but I only managed about ten metres before I kind of flopped down on the wet sand. Did I mention it was raining? So I was laying there face down in the rain, wet sand in my ears and my hair, panting and fighting the urge to swallow my own tongue, when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I summoned the energy to turn my head to the side, and there is four of the others, on all fours, soaking wet and actually digging in the sand! They had been looking for the Johnnie Walker for an hour... [:D]
At that point, though I was clearly in no position to judge, I realised I needed some new friends [8D] And I've not drank Jack Daniels since.
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