Thursday, October 19, 2006

Drunken Bowling

I can count on two fingers the amount of times that I have been remotely intoxicated; once was my twenty-first birthday when I vaguely remember being handed ruby slippers every 5 minutes or so and doing a lot of bar hopping in Downtown Akron. We ended the night in a bumpin' and grindin' dance bar that smelled like sweat and cigarettes, where I plopped myself down at a table with a mudslide and watched the room spin, all the while wondering when I was going to lean a little too far and fall off my stool. The second time was a year later and just pure stupidity on my part to show up to a wine tasting party without having anything to eat beforehand. Seeing as it was a tasting, I didn't have a full glass of any particular wine, and about five tastes in I was feeling a little lightheaded, but I kept going anyway. After what was likely the equivalent to a full bottle of wine it was all I could do to silently plead with myself during the drive home, in my friend's car, with a crystal clear picture of her clean, gray floor mats in my head, "Don't throw up... don't throw up..." I've usually taken a Diet Coke over alcohol since.

Last night Jon's softball game was canceled so he and a few friends decided to go bowling, and I went along even though I am an embarrassingly terrible bowler. Surprisingly, I lost my handicap after the five guys took down five pitchers of beer in a little over an hour. By midnight their original scores had been halved and they were playing a game of P.I.G.: Bowling Style. Around the back, through the legs, and to the right for a strike, man! My personal favorite involved a lunging motion as they slid across the floor and pushed/threw the ball down the aisle. I watched at least two strikes take place through this method and each time all five guys doubled over laughing.

I've never seen my husband drunk before and he was so far gone last night that I had to link his arm through mine and drag him with me as we waddled after another guy who seriously thought he was going to drive himself home.

It was 1:00am before all completely wasted members of our party were partnered with a non-wasted buddy and I took the keys from Jon as I directed him to the passenger side of the car. I know it could get very old, very fast, but it's been a long time since I've laughed as much as I did during the drive home last night, thanks to conversations like this one:

Jon: "Let me give you a little bit of advice... when you've had as much to drink as I have... don't stare into the lights that go around and around... even though it is SO much fun!"

Me: "If it's fun then why can't you stare into them?"

Jon: "Because they give you HEEBIE HEEBIES!"

Me: "What are heebie heebies?"

Jon: "Puke."

I'm so lucky to have a husband who creates his own vocabulary when he's drunk.

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