Sunday, July 24, 2005, 11:25 PM, Mountain Time
[There is a 2020 update at the end.]
I just drank three 16-ounce beers, and barely felt a twinge of silliness (still, it was more than the usual twinge, though). That is very annoying.
Luckily, I still have a fraction of that twinge in me as I write this entry.
There are three possible reasons for my immunity to alcohol:
1.) I'm tough as nails. No! Really!
2.) I didn't (yes, past tense) want to be laughed at.
3.) I didn't (yes, past tense) want to get caught.
I think the first choice is probably the correct choice, but the other two are worthy of some consideration.
Not Wanting to Be Laughed At
I never touched alcohol until the summer before my senior year in high school. Until that time, I had not been trying to be a saint. I just didn't hang out with the wrong crowd, and, furthermore, I had had no need or desire for alcohol. As a kid, I seemed to have been still half crocked from whatever moonshine I had drank in my last life on this earth. It didn't take much to entertain me in those days, and I seemed always to be laughing about something (although there were exceptions).
When I finally returned to my old home town in South Dakota the summer before my senior year (a story in itself), I promised myself that I was finally going to become a part of the crowd. I did this for my sake (or rather for the sake of my social life), not because I was caving in to any peer pressure (being incredibly stubborn, I never caved in to peer pressure, and they had long ago given up on trying to pressure me). In late July or early August, someone hired a rock band to entertain us at a keg party (kegger) in an obscure pasture by the creek a few miles west of town. It was an evening straight out of a Hollywood movie. If I remember correctly, I had five beers that evening, and I don't remember feeling drunk. I just remember feeling incredibly athletic and coordinated. I proved it by quickly climbing, hands free, up the corral and some other woodwork leading into the loft of my friends' giant barn. Even though I was a beginning drinker, I didn't have a hangover, or even a minor headache, the next morning. The lack of a hangover probably gave me the wrong idea about drinking to excess.
I drank again two months later (in September) at another kegger in the country (these were major affairs, with people showing up from seemingly everywhere). I drank so much that evening that I bravely, yet staggeringly, went hand in hand with a pretty girl straight into the back seat of my friend's car (with another friend's younger sister in the front seat letting me know how offended she was --- normally I would have cared). This girl had been trying to get my attention for a few weeks and I had not been brave enough to talk to her until I was thoroughly drunk and she was thoroughly drunker. Within three minutes of landing in the back seat, a girlfriend of my female companion knocked on the car window and told her it was time to go. Little did my companion's busybody "chaperone" know, but my companion (her friend) was far more "worldly" than I was. She was rescuing the wrong person. Needless to say, I was a bit unhappy.
Soon thereafter I threw up, and I didn't stop throwing up until about noon the next day. I swore I would never drink again.
Two months later (late November), I attended the girls' basketball team "kegger" (celebrating the end of the basketball season). Since three-fourths of the girls on the team were very appealing, there was no way I was going to miss that one. A number of my classmates, who had never seen me in a drunken condition, and who remembered that I had previously been far too innocent, said loudly, "We want to see 'younameit' drunk!" I happily obliged them. As soon as I had achieved drunkenness, I informed them of that fact, and they were not impressed. They politely pushed me away, not liking my uninhibited silliness.
The liars! The hypocrites!
However, I still had a blast visiting and stumbling around with one or two of the drunken girls on the team (no back seats this time, darn it); but my classmates' snubbing of me, because I was too drunk and silly, bothered me a lot, especially since they had specifically wanted to see me drunk (just not silly).
That night and the next morning, I did the requisite throwing up. What a nightmare it was, having to get up long before dawn to go to my dishwashing job at the local restaurant (all that scalding hot water, dirty, smelly plates, leftover scraps; the smells of frying bacon, sausage, eggs, etc.; I get nauseous just remembering it).
I did not drink again until I attended my high-school graduation party six months later (I had been at the "kegger" after my prom, but I didn't touch the stuff). Another random few of my classmates expressed an interest in seeing me drunk. Once again, I was happy to oblige, and once again I was too silly. As they gently nudged me away from them, they said, "Thaaaat's nice, 'younameit.' Naturally, I got sick again that night, but it was the last time I did so for several years. I had finally learned my lesson about drinking too much.
I had also learned my lesson about showing my drunkenness outwardly. I swore that I would hide my intoxication from everyone from that time on (on those rare occasions that I chose to drink, which was about twice a year during the first half of my college experience). And I did just that. I was quite intoxicated when I did drink, but I was very reserved on the outside.
Side Note: Unexpected Side Effect
There was a totally unexpected side effect of suppressing my drunkenness: My sense of humor increased dramatically. Why? Because my good humor was still in me, only I had become very, very careful about what parts of it I actually spoke out loud, and I thought very carefully about just how to say whatever I wanted to say; and I kept it short). I had not been known for my sense of humor in junior high and high school (except around my cousins), because so many of my classmates had hilarious senses of humor. In fact, one of my best friends was (and still is) easily the funniest person I have ever known (I'm not alone in that assessment). I had always been intimidated by that, figuring I could never compete (although I tried a lot and usually failed miserably).
................ However, I had watched those funny people very closely, and I had been continuously taking mental notes................
After leaving that crowd and settling in a more humorless part of the country (western Nebraska), there was no one to "intimidate" me anymore, humor-wise; so my own sense of humor, aided occasionally by alcohol, had a chance to see the light of day. In fact, the first time I sat and drank with my family (at age 21), I had my parents rolling with laughter while we played "quarters." I had never even tried to be funny around them before, and they had never suspected that I even had a sense of humor. That day probably will always be my funniest day.
-----
Not Wanting to Get Caught
I had first begun tending bar during a brief hiatus from college (age 23). This first bar was located in a tiny town (125 people) in the middle of nowhere in far northwestern South Dakota. Traditionally, the customers in these small-town bars tip the bartender by buying him free drinks while he is on duty. If the tipping continues, then the bartender keeps on drinking. However, at that age, I absolutely did not want to be known as a regular drinker. Instead, I drank only on very special occasions, so I almost always politely refused their tips (which seemed to offend some of them, but, as I say, I'm pretty stubborn when it comes to being my own person).
Shortly after college (age 26), I put my teaching degree to good use by becoming a bartender again. This new bar was located in a small town (about 3,000 people) in Montana. "Drink tipping" was the tradition there, too. Having just recently suffered through that "Iranian Affair," with the loss still being keenly felt, I was a sitting duck for customers who wanted to buy me a drink. I drank their tips and thanked them profusely.
After spending only five months in that small town, I soon moved to Sioux Falls, SD, population of over 100,000, and began tending bar in one of the three nicest restaurant/lounges in town. It was a very high-class establishment. I still don't know what possessed me to go from a small-town dive to a large-town lounge that specialized in all the most "sophisticated" drinks. Drinking on the job there was expressly forbidden. So there was definitely no "drink tipping" allowed. Regrettably, I had still not been cured of my depression, so this no-drinking rule didn't hold much weight with me. On Friday and Saturday nights, when I was hidden in the service bar all alone (where only the waitresses picked up their drink orders), I would occasionally drink secretly. My long experience at hiding my inebriation paid off very nicely there.
You may be wondering if I stole from the inventory. No, I did not. I drank the drinks that were made by mistake. For instance, if a waitress ordered a "Long Island Iced Tea," then said, "No, no! Wait! I'm Sorry! I meant...!" I would sit the mistake down below the counter (instead of dumping it out) and drink it when no one was looking. Three or four such mistakes in an evening made for a pretty pleasant time. And not a single soul had a clue.
How do I know that not a single soul had a clue? Because one day I made up my mind to stop drinking for several months (or however long I had determined was appropriate). One of the waitresses was sincerely baffled when I told her this. She said, "Why, 'younameit'? You hardly ever drink!" Smiling slyly, I said, "Oh, you'd be surprised."
[Another side note: Almost immediately (maybe within five weeks) after I had quit drinking, I lost 10 or more pounds. I didn't even have to reduce my intake of food.]
So, in conclusion (somewhat of an anti-climactic conclusion, since it is now Monday morning), I don't know if I have built up an immunity to drunkenness (I mean the part of it that I feel) because I used to drink a lot (although nowhere near as much as the average person), or if I became so good at hiding my drunkenness from everyone else that I eventually stopped "feeling" the drunkenness myself. Either way, alcohol is a complete waste of time for me anymore. The vast majority of the time, it only makes me feel worse physically rather than better mentally. And it is incredibly unhealthy. All in all, it is disappointing that I no longer have alcohol to rely on as an easy "escape route." This means that it also does not enhance my sense of humor the way it used to, although there is still a trace of silliness left in me ;-).
Sincerely yours,
younameit
Highly recommended reading (along with her previous entry): "Robin Smith: 'Battle of La Belge: part two'.
Update: Thursday, April 23, 2020: It has now been five years and four months, to the day, since I last drank any alcohol. I din't miss it 95 precent of the time. I've been a proponent of supplements for the past 8 or 9 years. Certain ones of them make me feel very much at peace and help me sleep very soundly.
