Last night we went to see David Sedaris at the Palace Theater in downtown Cleveland. I’ve been a fan of his writing for several years now, so the thought of hearing his stories straight from the source was very appealing to me. The theater lobby was comfortably crowded, and after a few minutes of mental ping pong, I took my husband up on his suggestion that I buy a drink.
I’ve never been a big fan of alcohol. I’ve always appreciated the allure but could never quite commit. In adult magazines, vodka and tequila make you more beautiful, more desirable. That part I was fine with. It was the after effects that concerned me. I can honestly say that vomiting is my least favorite past time. It’s not the acrid taste on my tongue, or the hollow sensation in my rumbling tummy. It’s the physical act of emptying out the contents of my stomach. Like a sparrow lacks the ability to swallow upside down, my food finds it preferential to keep in full accordance with the laws of gravity. So despite how delicious those five or six tropical inspired drinks may be at the time, I am hesitant to walk that tightrope.
Because of my inexperience, all it takes is two wine coolers or two beers or maybe one Absolute and cranberry before my body begins the difficult process of coordinating with my brain. I instantly recognize the difference in my behavior. I laugh a bit louder, point out random objects in the room, and my gait takes on an odd, toddler like quality. I had one strawberry daiquiri and less than twenty minutes later could not effectively climb the theater stairs without stumbling over my feet. The usher was too busy getting lost in the poorly marked aisles to notice. We took our seats, and within the next hour my “mini-buzz” had dulled to a headache/urge to urinate. My brief dance with the seductress that is rum was pleasant if not, well, pointless. I’ll never have the courage to get completely “hammered”, so I’ll have to instead settle for an occasional episode of mild euphoria. It’s not a drunken stupor, but it’s close enough for me.
