DOSE:

8 oz

oral

Alcohol - Hard

(liquid)

BODY WEIGHT:

135 lb

The day started out like many other summer days -- a couple of friends and I decided to get drunk. (M, B, & myself. We also had a sober friend, J) The best way to do that, in our opinion, was to split a 750ml bottle of 151 proof rum. So, we took a trip to our favorite local not-by-the-book liquor store and bought our goods. About $21 dollars later, we had a large bottle of Bacardi in our bag and anticipation in our hearts.

Since we're fairly new at this drinking thing (read: pussy little bastards), or at least B and M are, we needed chasers. I feel that Gatorade is the best sort of chaser. The taste is also bearable, for me, when mixed with such a high proof alcohol. Yet another benefit of drinking from a Gatorade bottle is that of its inconspicuous nature. For me, it has worked every time, knock on wood. We also each brought a liter of water and some mouthwash for afterwards. Parents, parents, parents.

So, we get to this park that is quite infamous for drinking, smoking and that sort of thing. We drink off about one-third of the Gatorade bottle and refill it with the rum. (There were approximately 7 or 8 ounces of rum in the Gatorade ‘’cocktail‘’.) The 750ml bottle of Bacardi 151 comes with a little pourer cap, so not a lot of it comes out at one time. This is probably good in bars, when all people need to pour is about a shot at a time. Maybe we should have taken this as a hint, I don’t know.

Since we needed some motivation, we played Shot-Blackjack, in which the losers have to drink a shot of their Gatorade-Bacardi mixture. As we got happier, Blackjack became boring and we became obnoxious, I suppose, since our sober friend was getting annoyed. (On second thought, she is perpetually annoyed, so I can’t be too sure how obnoxious we were.) M mentions that drinking his concoction is like drinking water, while B can hardly choke it down. I’m quite indifferent as I have a bit more experience. (Not necessarily a good thing.) Sitting around while drunk is nowhere near as fun as walking around while drunk, so we had to find something to do.

I had to pick up some food for my dad, so that’s what we did first. Admittedly, it’s not the most fun thing, but it was something. J (the sober friend) and I bring the food to my house, while M and B wait outside and continue to drink. When J and I come back out, M is a lot drunker than B. He’s also a skinny bastard, while B is not. I was slightly buzzed at that point, since I had to slow down drinking to not look so bad in front of my dad. M was really wasted at this point, as I remember laughing really loudly at him and slapping my knees, and I was just trying to catch up, since being only slightly buzzed but having to hang around drunk bastards is a waste of $7 bucks. B was stumbling around and babbling something about Clay Aiken. J was just plain embarrassed (and maybe a little pissed, being sober.)

We stood around near my building for a while, trying to decide what to do next. J wanted to go downtown to get Japanese food, so that’s what we agreed to do. (Although, it probably wasn’t the best idea, since I need a pretty strong stomach in general to eat Japanese food, and the liquor was not helping any in that department. But I like Japanese food, so I guess it wouldn‘t have been that big of a problem.)

To get downtown, we have to take the subway. I’ve been on the subway while drunk, and it’s a bumpy ride that isn’t too good on the stomach. (Malt liquor + hot dogs + long, bumpy subway ride = sure way to get myself to puke in public.) The walk from my house to the subway is about 7 blocks, but we first had to go to J’s house for her to get money from her Grandmother. M, B and I wait outside. By this point, all three of us have finished our Gatorade cocktails, so M and I go to the store to get another chaser. I’m not sure if they were out of Gatorade or if I just couldn’t find it, so I ended up getting some sort of Cranberry juice bottle. M gets nothing because he’s hella wasted and is lying down on the floor and wants to take a nap in the store. I had to get him up to go to the counter and pay for the juice, which I did. I remember the guy at the counter telling me the juice was $1.25, as opposed to the dollar I am used to paying, so I angrily mumble something about him ripping me off. Lord only knows what he thought.

So M, J, B and I make our way to the subway. B is up ahead with J talking about god knows what, while I’m acting like a crutch for M because he can hardly walk. He trips, I trip, and we fall in a dried up pile of dog crap. (Gotta love the New York City streets.) Some people were passing, they almost trip over us, laugh and continue walking. I figure that M is going to need some rest, so I get him up and get him to lie uncomfortably on someone else’s car, while hoping the owner isn’t around to call the cops. B and J disappear somewhere for nearly 10 minutes, and M and I are just hanging there.

Now, not being in the best state, I make a few choices that could have turned out not so good. I have my new Oceanspray cranberry juice chaser, pour half of it out, and replace it with more rum. I start drinking, while slapping M intermittently to make sure he’s still alive. I also give him some water to drink so he has something more to puke up. B shows up out of nowhere without our sober buddy. Looking back, this is probably the point where we become royally screwed. Passersby are staring and inquiring about our mental state, a cop car slows down and stares at us but thankfully, this being the ghetto, continues going, as a few drunk-off-their-ass teenagers are the least of their worries. (Another reason to love New York City.

B and I, being the least fucked up, decide to try and get M somewhere where he can just wait out the alcohol. This little baseball field was our choice, as it was big enough for us to lie around in without being suspicious. We make it across the street and maybe 10 feet up, but then sort of collapse in front of this Jehovah Witnesses church building parking lot. M and I sat there for about 20 minutes, although it could have been 20 seconds and I wouldn’t have known the difference. At this point, M starts puking. On my pants, on his pants, in the church’s plants. B says something about pissing and disappears for a few minutes. He comes back, and I go piss behind someone’s car. I have to be pretty fucked up to piss in public, so I guess I was. B starts to take some pictures, and lord only knows what he got.

People who are passing by are staring, M gets up to go piss or something, doesn’t make it, and lies down in the middle of the street. This is where I started to get panicked. People are always going to go and do something when there’s a semi-conscious body in the middle of a NYC street. So, I’m assuming, someone calls the cops. A crowd forms. B convinces me to go to the corner and pretend we don’t know him, to avoid getting in trouble. One cop car shows up, and somehow multiplies into 6 and an ambulance. The cops were quite jovial, getting a kick out of the drunken teenager. M says his name is Ernie Ichijogi, which is quite far from his real name. He also starts flipping off the cops, which I found quite hilarious. Since we were sure M was going to get taken care of, B and I started to leave. Then, somehow, M’s mom drops from the sky and appears, running towards M, who is now in an ambulance. She stops me, asks me what is happening, and all that fun stuff. Being quite drunk, but not nearly as drunk as M, I get quite scared and think that M has alcohol poisoning and is going to die or get permanent brain damage, or something equally as terrible. I start bawling, and asking her if he’s okay. She says no, so I cry even harder.

The walk home was terrible, since I was bawling and people were asking if I was okay. I dumped the rest of the Bacardi, and called J on her cell phone, still bawling. She actually made it downtown and got Japanese food, I found out soon after. So M’s mom is angry at me, thinking I forced him to drink and B said I gave them the liquor. People do maddening things when they want to cover their ass, so I don’t hold any grudges, but it’s still annoying to know that he totally sold me out when we all made the consensual decision to drink.

Later, I found out that M was taken to the hospital and they found he had a Blood Alcohol Concentration of .216 or so, which is indeed very high, but not especially lethal. M had never had such an intense reaction to alcohol and has drank way more than the 8 or so ounces he drank that day, but he also hadn’t slept or eaten for two days. For that, he spent a night in the hospital and has a pretty funny story to tell.

Exp Year: 2003	ExpID: 26062
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: May 28, 2006	Views: 19,036
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Alcohol - Hard (198) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Train Wrecks & Trip Disasters (7)