L. Lee

My first negative drinking experience was in high school, junior year.  We were gathered at David’s house before going to school at midnight for some weird midnight swim event that our coach had concocted.  My memory is fuzzy on specifics, but that night the boys smoked a lot of weed, I kind of smoked a cigarette, and we drank vodka mixed with OJ in jumbo-sized 7-11 cups.  Then we piled into the car of one boy who had not been drinking and went to the movies where I promptly vomited everything everywhere.  This was in Orange County.  People were horrified.

During my first study abroad stint in Paris, I got carried away with the suddenly freely available alcohol and my non-underageness, even at 19.  It was an interesting period of drinking and discovering the wines, the gins, the Martini, pastis, et cetera.  Years later when I lived in Troyes, I really discovered how much I love alcoholic beverages.  My favorite aperitif was a glass or two of pink Champagne.  My favorite digestif was a pear liqueur. 

Then there’s last night.  On one hand, everything was perfect.  I was with three really smart, funny, interesting women — the kind I love.  Over the period of six hours, we could not stop laughing.  But we also could not stop ordering drinks.  This leads to the other hand.  Although, everything would have remained dandy had not one woman, who could drink you, and you, and you under the table, kept ordering tequila shots alternated with Irish car bombs.  She laughed at us when we could not finish our third car bomb in one go.  Except for this friend, we can’t recall exact details starting from about 2.  This morning I woke up with a hangover, which, if I could rank it, would definitely win at least the bronze medal of hangovers.  Obviously, I had fallen asleep with my makeup on.  Obviously, I was late to work.  Obviously, I popped an aspirin and went to have 해장국 (hangover soup) for lunch.