wine night

yesterday, suzanne and i, in addition to a small group of friends had to take a french translation test to fulfill one of our requirments to get our masters. its not a hard test and is graded fairly generously, so there is very little concern for failure, but it still aroused in us a kind of nervousness that i could have otherwise done without.
the plan was to take the test and then go to our friend's apartment on 23rd and 6th. there, she has roof access, and we planned on drinking the night away amidst the manhattan skyline.
from 2:30 to 5:30 we translated our little hearts out and as we emerged from the exam, farily confident, we were ready to get our drink on. the original group was going to be approximately 6 people, but as we ran into other friends and acquaintances on our way out of the building, our small assembly grew. we picked up food, we picked up drink, and we found our way to the roof and the night began quickly. the wine flowed freely, and as it was a windy night and we had only matches, we made sure to keep at least one cigarette burning at all times. conversation was almost as intoxicating as the wine and as the night went on, the subjects shifted from deep philosophical issues like social injustice, existence and sexuality to slightly less cerebral topics like "is it cheating if you have sex with a transexual?" as soon as it was determined that the best way to solve the problem was to have a 3-way instead, someone said, "that's not cheating, that's just hot," and we all toasted to the idea. although, now that i really think about it, its almost like your having a foursome if one of the participating parties is both man and woman.
regardless, it was pretty straight down from there. the group dwindled a little and we were back down to the core six. as it was getting colder we decided to vacate the roof and to move indoors...this, was the beginning of my downfall. having just gotten back from our second trip to the liquor store with 4 more bottles of wine the night was on track for a really good time. so when we got inside and someone proposed shot-glass checkers with wine, i thought it was a great idea. now, i don't know if it was the cool air that was keeping me sober, or if i just hit a drinking wall, but it wasn't too long before i was having trouble focusing my eyes, talking, or even holding my head up straight. so, i found my way to the bathroom and puked my guts out. suzanne followed me to the bathroom, but i assured her i would be ok, i just needed some time. i asked that she apologize to everyone for me and to let them know that shot-glass checkers was a bad idea. as i heard her repeat this message between my bouts of wretching i heard a sympathetic explosion of laughter and i felt comforted despite the fact that i had just become "that guy."
i hate being that guy. despite my 25 years i'm still an amateur when it comes to drinking. this isn't to say we didn't drink a ton of wine last night. throughout the night i think we had a steady average of 6 people drinking wine, and within that core group i'm pretty sure we managed to consume between 12 and 13 bottles of wine. simple math shows that each party involved in this night of debauchery drank way too much.
i emerged from the bathroom feeling fresh and clean, and as anyone who has seen me after a night like last can attest, all the little tiny blood vessels around my eyes had burst from the pressure of vomiting and i looked thoroughly like an ass. it was pretty clear that the night was over, and our friends thrust some cash into our hands and insisted we take it and find a cab to take us home. i don't like cabs, so we took the subway anyway, which ended up being a good thing because when i started feeling sick again, we were able to hop off the train so i could become close personal friends with the garbage can. subway garbage cans are usually the type of thing i don't even like to touch, much less hug and vomit into, but uninhibited and hugely inebriated rob cared not for sanitary issues.
we finally found our way home, thanks much to suz's relative sobriety, and she decided to spring for dunkin donuts breakfast sandwiches, just what i needed to sorta settle my stomach. as she waited in line i struck up a drunken conversation with a dude on the street about his bmw. not too surprisingly, his car is giving him the same problems that my old bmws had given me, so i was at least able, despite my intoxication, to pass on some bmw knowledge to this dude, which he seemed thankful for. we got home, at our breakfast sandwiches, watched a simpsons and crawled into bed. i didn't emerge until noon, and then quickly retreated back to the warm folds until around 2:30.
i look like a raccoon from the burst blood vessels and i feel like a shit popsicle. i can still taste wine every time a burp, and despite my ingestion of excess carby goodness, my stomach is still bubbling and jumping.
i hate drinking. i don't understand why i do it to such excess on the few occasions that i do it. i hate drinking, i hate drinking, i hate drinking. i will become a responsible adult one day, and when that happens i will know how to limit my alcoholic intake. i think i just need a few more nights like last night to really solidify the importance of moderation before i'm ready to make that leap into responsibility.
new pictures from last night will be forthcoming on ye ol' flickr account, so keep your eyes peeled.