The Grad-ftermath, Part II: "White-Girl Drunk"

As many of you know, I don't drink. Really, I don't, and if I do, it is usually on a very special occasion. I drank enough in undergrad to make up for all of you folks who don't drink either, and I can count on one hand how many times I've been tipsy and/or drunk in the past five years, and three or so of those times have been for university-related events.

This being said, Friday night was my graduation night, and I told Daisy (as well as the rest of my friends who would be attending the graduation party) that I had one goal in mind -- that goal was to get absolutely shit-faced, "white-girl drunk."

 

The above screencap from Urban Dictionary pretty much sums up my intentions.

Mind you, without the whole "bra and panties" thing. Or the passing out. But it's close enough.

Ahem. Anyway.

I do not generally enjoy being drunk. Generally is the key word here. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I plan to get drunk, sometimes I plan to party and have a good time. This is on, as you may have guessed again, incredibly rare occasions. Friday night's party was one of them. So, I'll preface the story with that.

We left campus, and in waiting a while to do so, we were able to avoid most of the horrific traffic from graduation and rush hour in Wichita. On the way to the party, we stopped at what turned out to be a pretty seedy gas station, and I bought two overpriced six-packs of beer. Both of them were some sort of Budweiser variety. I can't remember what they were, because after I put them in one of the coolers at the party -- adding my twelve beers to what had to be close to two hundred other bottles and cans of beer -- I never saw any of them again. Whether they were consumed quickly or sank to the bottom of the coolers, who knows. But the fact that there was just that much beer there had to be a horrifically bad sign, and an omen as to how the rest of the evening would play out. But at 6PM? I was more like "woohoo! beer!" than anything else.

The party was great -- there were probably thirty of us there, not counting family members/parents of some of us who were graduating that night. Many of us had brought our significant others (well, those who had them, anyway; I brought Daisy, of course), and we had a great time into the night. What I remember of the night, anyway.

I don't forget things when I get drunk. I really don't. But things do become a bit hazier after pounding beers for hours upon hours. I drank nothing but beer, even though there was (apparently) wine and other hard liquors available. I'm really not a hard liquor person; I'm more of a beer guy. That being said, I can't remember every little detail of the night as we were there, and I was drinking, for a solid eight hours or more outside in the heat and in front of a fire. What I can give you are some highlights of the evening of things that were great (and not so great):

• I stopped counting how many beers I'd had around fifteen or so. Something like that. The majority of them were consumed over the course of the first half of the party, with others spaced out (because I'm not a complete moron) over the second half. I stopped roughly ninety minutes before all of us went home. There is indeed a reason for that, and I'll get to it.
• I played two games of beerpong; there was a tournament going on, and I was partnered with my buddy Ryan's girlfriend. The first game we won, but the first game also took place about three hours after the party had started...when I could still stand up without stumbling or falling over. The second game? That one took place three hours after the first game, and I could barely stand at all. In fact, I fell into the wall of the "beerpong pavilion" building at least twice, knocking an electric weedwacker off its hook both times I did so. I did, however, have the presence of mind to hang it up neatly each time, and apologize. The fact that I could barely stand at this point, ahem, did not help our pong game. I did, however, play because I felt the need to defend my school's honor (I went to West Virginia University for my undergrad, as you may know -- it is frequently ranked, and is again this year, as the #1 party school in the nation). I never did find out who won the tournament, or if it even finished before the party ended.
• There was a bonfire as well as several lit tiki torches spread about the yard. According to Daisy, I nearly fell into one or all of them multiple times. This is not so much of me being drunk as it was me being drunk and walking around in flip-flops in a really, really uneven yard plagued by moles. And while I do believe that she thought I was going to fall into them, I did have enough presence of mind to stay far enough away from the fire to where I wouldn't, even if I was stumbling around. At least I think so, anyhow. Regardless, as I don't have third-degree (or worse) burns all over my body, I think I did remarkably well in avoiding the fire(s).
• I saw several friends who I hadn't seen in many months, as they have either already graduated or are no longer teaching, and it was great to see them. I also met several significant others of some friends whom I have wanted to meet for a long time, but had not had the chance to meet until Friday night. Likewise, all of them met Daisy as well.
• The food was fantastic; some of us brought different dishes (it was, after all, a potluck party) and the food that was cooked there -- burgers, hot dogs, grilled sausages and chicken -- was all great. What of it I had, anyhow. Around a bunch of drunk grad students (current as well as former), food absolutely disappears quickly. I had a burger, a hot dog, some pita chips/hummus, and an ear of corn, but nothing else the entire night. I hadn't eaten anything all day prior to the party either, aside from a can of soda and some crackers in the alumni tent after graduation. This is part of what led to my inevitable downfall.
• The last game of beerpong is what put me over the edge; losing at that and being forced to down several more cups of beer is what made me ill. I had reached my "okay, let's stop drinking now" point, and I had done so. However, those cups of beer from the game, in my team's losing, is what put me over the edge. I threw up twice behind the building (which, apparently, was fair game for puke and pee), and immediately felt much better. The second time was from coming to sit in front of the fire after the first time, which made me too hot and sick again. After that, I rapidly began to completely sober up; even when drunk, even when I am white-girl drunk, my metabolism for alcohol is very fast. I process it and rapidly pass the drunkenness out of my system. 
• I later found out from Daisy that many of my friends highly respect me and look up to me, as she had been told this in conversations with them. This totally surprised me.

We got home roughly around 2:30 or so. Something like that, anyhow. I don't remember exactly what time it was. I just remember that we were both exhausted  (after all, we'd been awake since early that morning). Daisy was a trooper through it all; she took care of me even though I was incredibly drunk all night, a drunkenness that had mostly worn off by the time we left the party and had worn off a lot more by the time we got home, only to be replaced by absolute fatigue and a need to sleep. I drank a lot of water to combat any ill effects of the beer before I went to sleep, though it was overall pretty unnecessary; by the morning, when I woke up around 10 (I let Daisy sleep until noon or so, since she needed it) I was perfectly fine, well-rested, and didn't have a hangover of any sort -- I don't usually get hangovers no matter how much I drink anyhow; it's apparently a gift. We then gathered our things, I showered and prepped the house for our departure, and by around 2PM we left Newton for Omaha...

The rest of the story, my friends, will be told in upcoming posts -- but I will leave you with this hilarious photo, which I found when I did a Google image search for "white girl drunk"...

Well, I thought it was funny.