K and I went out to a bar tonight for a couple of beers. This kind of highlights a funny aspect of Georgia law. I had to go out at 8 p.m. last night not long after we arrived at K's parents' house because I wanted to get some Dale's Pale Ale to take with me on tomorrow's hike. I didn't have the option of waiting until today to get it. Stores are barred from selling any alcoholic beverages on a Sunday. Despite that, bars and restaurants don't have that restriction from the state, although there are counties that restrict that on their own.
In other words, the state of Georgia encourages drunk driving on Sundays. I've never figured out why it's worse to buy a beer and take it home than to down a few shots at a bar and drive home. Sure it's always illegal to drive drunk, but this quirk in the rules does nothing but require those wanting to get drunk to have to do it and then find a way home from the bar unless they're good at planning ahead.
Anyway, K was reminiscing on our way home about The Apocalypse. Those of you who knew me in college know exactly what I am talking about, but that was probably the most out of control party I've ever attended. I do think a bit of a disclaimer is needed here. Almost all of the parties I attended were with the same small group of people I saw pretty much every day in college. Our school didn't have fraternities, so there weren't any huge frat parties to compare it to, but this was big for us. Lots of alcohol was consumed. We sneaked into Courtney's fridge when she wasn't paying attention and stole chicken fingers from the Chick-fil-A platter she'd purchased for the Christmas party the next day. We played with the weird hot wax foot thing she had for some reason. The most impressive part of the night (other than the discovery of the fact that my wife will, in fact, take care of me even when she's too drunk to do anything other than crawl) was the discovery that while drunk I am a gymnast. During that party we piled all the cushions from Courtney's couch and then did flips onto the pile. I've never been able to do a flip, but I managed to do some really impressive acrobatics that night without hurting myself. I still don't know how I did that.
5 comments:
Awww. Good times. Even though that was my first hangover.
I forgot about the foot wax thing. And the chicken fingers, you little thieves.
That was probably my most insane party. I've never seen anyone go from sober to drunk to puking as quickly as you did that night.
Next time we get together, we're jumping on couch cushions. I've missed that.
Wow, are there photos of this party?
The power of inebriation.
And Goldschlager.
Meaghan: Sorry, but I'm not aware of any photos from that night. I don't think anyone thought it was going to be enough of an event to justify a camera. After all, Courtney hosted one of these things almost once a month at one time. This one just went a little further than usual.
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