I gotta grow up

Got back yesterday from a debauched evening with college buddies.

I am such a wimp. I am also pushing 56 years and have never kept the ability to consume mass quantities of alcohol high on my list of “quality time”.

I rolled into camp around 1800. Unfortunately a bottle of Makers Mark was open on the the back tailgate of Locutius’ truck. Being of insubstantial, if not nonexistent moral fiber, I picked it up and did the expected. I hugged dear friends and acted suitably aghast at the intimation that there was a bet as to whether or not I would show up. Beer was offered as an aperitif and I ate a light dinner. Suitable intoxicants were offered. The unholy trinity of Locutius, Lucius, and Portia rode roughshod over a weak and completely insincere confession of my virtue.

Hours were spent pleasantly. Discussions of substance were made, old bonds were renewed. The bottle of MM nearly met an untimely end along with many beers and other such things.

After several pratfalls on my part, and after urinating on all the tires of Lucius and Locutius’ trucks (Loki the dog was not amused), I found my way to my cot. As I had went straight to bonding without making an adequate camp first, I crawled into the sleeping bag and pulled a tarp over me. Sleep (??) came quickly.

Waking up drunk, outside, with no idea where ones shoes are, and with a full bladder is disconcerting. As this occurred several times in the evening, my feet now bear scars of less than honorable origin.

I woke up in the morning to the groans and feeble complaints of a combined 193 years of less than stellar judgment. Everyone was civil, but an underlying misery was easily discerned. Lucius and Locutius made preparations for golf, Portia went to peddle wares at an arts fair. I was hung over, slightly sick, and thirsty. I made my way to town and drank a liter of water fortified with lots of B-vitamins and vitamin C (Thank god for those little fizzy packs). Felt better, got a book and went to see Lucius and Locutius begin their golf game at the rich nazi golf course out of town.

Big mistake here, went past a McDonalds, got a sausage mcmuffin with egg. Consumed same, continued toward golf course. As I turned into the course, my stomach went beserk…I barely had time to open the car door to leave a puke-deposit on the neatly manicured entry. At this point I said the hell with it and drove back home. Left a message on Locutius' cell phone of my departure.

During the drive home I had to stop three times and nap. Nearly a gallon of water was consumed. When I got home I napped for three hours, woke up, made a feeble attempt at laundry, then went back to sleep.

This morning I am partially present. A pot of coffee and two hard boiled eggs have stayed down. There is a message on my phone from Locutius. I am certain it is a detailed and accurate assessment of my lack of stamina and other outward signs of manhood. I think that I will wait a bit before reviewing it.

Can’t wait til’ next year.