I usually medicate myself with Tequila while I’m behind the bar, but last weekend I just wasn’t feeling the agave plant. Our selection is lacking to say the least and I’m bored with Sauza. I needed something different. What would do the trick? It’s times like these that the “kid in a candy store” feeling is appropriate. Imagine- me staring at all those colorful bottles filled with liquid joy- I decided I wanted a clear liquor. That rules out Bourbon which tends to make counting difficult for me. Vodka seems so blah. Rum? well that could be fun right?
Before I know it, I’m pouring myself a shot of gin and clinking glasses with the other bartender. He’s looking at me with the face I’m all too used to. It’s his what’s-wrong-with-you face… like he’s trying to figure out where my DNA is mutated.
Warm. Tree. Bark.
So that’s how it started. I was going to drink nothing but warm gin for five hours. I rationalized it as a social experiment. We’ve all heard people say over and over “You don’t want to see me drink Gin,” it’s a notorious spirit: responsible for making people aggressive or over emotional and let’s not forget those zitty gin blossoms that pop up on peoples noses. It’s probably what’s really responsible for the French and Indian War. –cue Brit accent- “I say, lets just fight them both at the same time. The bloody colonists will do all the fighting work anyway. Cheerio! More Juniper Berries!”
Anywho, here are the results of my Gin experiment. I drank it warm so that it wouldn’t be watered down. Pure gin, that was the goal.
- 1st shot- About two minutes after my initial consumption I noticed that my brain felt a little dry. Then I noticed that I was thinking, “My brain feels dry.” This would not be the only time I reconsidered being the Gin-ny pig.
- 2nd shot- Brain is still feeling the dryness and I’m surprised at how hard it’s hitting me. I’m not trashed or anything but the end of the night seems like forever away and the bottle of Beefeater is starting to intimidate me. I could feel his eyes on my back… following me around the bar… like a jealous lover.
- 3rd, 4th, 5th shot- Now I’m really wondering if I’m going to make it through the night without embarrassing myself. The dry brain thing is persistent as well as my newfound speech impediment. Not that i’m slurring (much), but more like my mouth has a mind of its own. Some words just won’t come out (conference was impossible to say) and others that aren’t part of my normal vocabulary (womb for example) have moved in and taken over. It’s also during this period of the evening that I hear myself saying, “it’s not me, it must be the gin.”
- 6th shot- A Breakthrough… as in I feel as if I just broke through a brick wall. Suddenly a sense of clarity descends upon me as soon as i put back the shot. The dry brain feeling is long gone. I can control my mouth. (sort of- still can’t say conference though, I really tried) The sluggish drunken feeling is replaced by one of “I’m the man. I can drink for the next two days and not black out. Just listen to what I’m saying and you’ll understand the secret of life.” Twisted- this is how Eve felt just after the first bite. Thinking back on it I’m surprised my horns weren’t showing. It’s when I’m this kind of drunk that I start pulling pranks on myself. You know, hiding your own wallet in ridiculous places, or launching your cell phone across Houston street to “free yourself from the grid.”
- 7th shot- This is to be my final shot of the evening for it’s time for me to descend and start closing down the registers. The only thing remarkable I can say is that somehow #7 turned into #’s 8+9
- 8 & 9- Just more and more clarity. Everything is so sharp. This shit is great! I can do anything, I know everything and I can’t wait to explain it to you. At some point during my shift the register was screwed up and all I had to do was take a good look at it and I would have noticed. I normally do that all night long- check to make sure everything’s working correctly. Mr. Juniper diverted my attention elsewhere though and before I knew it I pulled an equation outta my ass, an equation I haven’t thought about since Algebra two (that’s right bitches algebra 2) . x+y=z and somehow I recreated the lost sales numbers for the night. and those numbers are right.
“It’ll make you be able to fly and bulletproof too.” That’s what my friend said when he came in and learned why I was so “in the moment.” Gin is an enabler. He’s the guy they talk about at AA meetings that allows people to keep up their lifestyle. Gin’s reputation is well deserved and the biggest danger is that you feel like another drink is the perfect idea of that moment. (cue that Brittish guy again) “You must continue drinking!” It’s very drug-like. At least 9 shots of warm gin and I was doing freakin algebra on the bar at 5 in the A M… without a calculator. Doesn’t that say it all? All around me are dead tired drunk people and I’m sitting there scribbling credit card totals and sales figures on scratch paper like a maniac!
I was a little fuzzy the next day but not skunky-hung over. I was positive that if anything this experience would put some distance between myself and a pre-dinner martini. Just the opposite. It sounds great to me right about now.
Next time I’m in a conundrum and there’s no solution, I’m going to hit the bottle hard for a thinking-outside-the-box-session. Wait a sec, is this how it starts?
“I’d like a Tanquerey Martini up with a twist please.”
