The Morning After (a.k.a. Schlitz Happens)

Hoo boy, that was a rough one.   The spirits moved me a bit too, well, spiritedly last night, and this morning I awoke lying shirtless on the icy kitchen floor.  Were it not for the heat emanating from the oven (I evidently attempted to heat up some leftover lasagna in the wee hours), I might have gotten hypothermia.  Or worse.  I dread to ponder what might have befallen this poor body of mine.

I must ask you humbly to forgive the embarrassing conceit and incoherence of my second post yestereve.  Both pride and modesty bade me strongly to take it down this morning, but to do so would be anathema (just looked that one up) to the spirit of my undertaking here.

And now, in my diminished, hungover consciousness, with awareness something on the order of a hearing-impaired bat and suffering the distinct sensation of a host of gnomes hacking away at my temples with tiny, dull machetes, I must don my cotton shirt and twill slacks and coat of undisclosed synthetic fabric and go to work at the hotel.  This is what it means to be an adult.  To brace up against everything in me crying out to succumb to the loathing and agonies of the morning after, and to tap into a wellspring of fortitude that allows me to forge ahead and do my duty.  I am a bellman.  This is the charge that the fates have layed upon me, and by the honor of my fathers and forefathers and grandfathers and stepfathers and godfathers and Father Christmases and Godfathers of Soul, I will fulfill my obligation and work the 3pm to close shift for seven dollars an hour plus tips.

I think I'll just have one more beer before I go.  Just to take the edge off.

My feet are very big... very big.

Five more schlitzes in, things occur to me that wouldn't have occurred to an unlubricated brain. This has occcured to me before, but now I have realized the unfiltered lucidity that the sauce brings. My feet are very, very big. I wear, like, a size thirteen. I could be a baller if such trifles as athletic prowess, a competitive spirit, and years of practice weren't part and parcel of excellence at sport. That's right, I challenge ye lesser men to gaze at my enormous pedesticular phallices and not stand in right wonder and envy.

Excuse me for a moment, I must vomit.

I am back.

They (mostly alcoholics) say that beer is proof that God loves and wants us to be happy. This puts me in mind of...

Okay, I'm back again.

... Tom Waits. my buddy Greg turned me onto him lately. And Tom Waits says "you know there ain't no devil there's just god shwhen he's drunk.' That is it. That is IT! There's no more to say than that. That is wisdom. That is scripture. That is Melville and Beckett and Tolstoy all wrapped up in one (but not all gay or anything). I have, my friends, in my beer-induced unsilent lucidity discovered the ultimate non-answer underlying all things. Enlightenment, I embrace thee warmly. It has been a long time, my friend, as if summoned up from another life.

Lo and behold, a fresh cold can of Schlitz awaits me on the counter just around the corner from the desk at which I now sit. And having pieced together the root source of everything, at last, the whole of this outlandish pageant we call 'life', there is nothing left but for me to shotgun this can of beer.

You know what else Tom Waits says? "I don;t have a drinking problem except when I can't get a drink." The rest, as they say, is silence.

The spirit in me.

So I'm new to the whole drinking thing. I mean, I'll be honest, I went to some parties during high school where booze was present. Yup, there was some underage drinking. I'm not going to lie. But it never really appealed to me. I always wanted to be that mysterious guy who everyone talked about but no one really knew. The guy who would appear out of nowhere at a party, bearded, sober, and profound that would invariably -- in my brief appearance -- set girls' hearts aflutter and ignite guys' envy.

Alas, this was not me. First of all, I still can't grow a beard. Second of all, my classmates didn't care whether I was profound or as deep as an eco-friendly urinal. What they cared about was whether or not I could secure some booze, pot, or other foreign substance they could ingest and use to pretend they weren't who or where they actually were. But that wasn't me either. Suffice it to say I wasn't the most popular kid in the class. ...Scratch that, I was the most popular kid in the class until the class discovered mind-altering substances. After that the bloom on my flower quickly faded.

But that's neither here nor there (well, maybe there). I'm not in high school anymore. And I'm not that person anymore. This new person who has replaced that old person (the younger one), is someone who has come to appreciate the pleasures to be found in the bottle. Far be it from me to endorse underage drinking, but if I'm old enough to die for my country how is it I'm not old enough to gaze upon an unattractive girl through the miracle of beer-goggles and decide she's the one for me (that night) to be rejected by?

But that's neither here nor there (well, maybe here). The fact is I enjoy the occasional spirituous beverage. I don't drink every night. And I don't need to drink to enjoy myself. But when I do choose to imbibe, something takes ahold of me. And it's not just that I become socially lubricated to the extent you could pass a naval vessel through my metaphorical orifice, and it's not just that the crushing weight of reality is momentarily relieved...there's a part of myself that wants to... what is it, punish myself? Is it my Catholic guilt? Is it the newfound personal freedom to do this to myself that I'm indulging? Whatever it is, it's not unpleasant. That is to say, it isn't not pleasant. And I'm thoroughly convinced that it's a part of learning my limits, perhaps a part of making my mistakes, and ultimately a part of becoming an adult. Maybe not for everyone, but for me.

And so I'm sitting here, a can of Schlitz beside my laptop glaring at me, challenging me, and I'm up for it. I don't need it. And this challenge is a self-imposed one, but I'll take it up for now. I'll take it up knowing the risks. I'll take it up knowing what's at stake. I'll meet this challenge and I will conquer it. And I'll enjoy it in the process. Isn't that what you adults do? Whatever the answer to that question is, it's what this adult intends to do.