LetusPonder
Column:
Which Drunk Are You?
- Rob Daugherty
Before I begin, I thought a simple list would be handy. If
you've experienced any that I've missed, slide
it down to me.
The HUGGY Drunk (along with specific
details from the Hugging Rules and
Regulations Handbook)
The REPEAT EVERYTHING MANY TIMES Drunk
The CRYING/CONFESSIONAL Drunk
CHATTY/TALK-ABOUT-ANYTHING Drunk
The FLIRTY/SLUTTY Drunk
(There's a special tribute to the beer-filled plastic cup)
The ASSHOLE FIGHTING Drunk
The FEMALE FIGHT ANYTHING Drunk
The MUST NEVER DRINK ALONE Drunk
Seriously-Invading-My-Personal-Space-Right-In-My-Face
Drunk
Laughs-at-Anything-and-Everything-and-Can't-Stop-Giggling
Drunk
II LOVE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE
Drunk
The HAPPY FRIENDLY Drunk
The PHILOSOPHICAL Drunk
The Way-Too-Much-Loves-The-Band Drunk
Have I missed any? Email
me, dammit!
So... which one are you?
According to the commercials, there appears to be only one
kind of person who drinks alcohol -- beautiful, fun, in perfect
shape, and white-teeth-smile charismatic. But most everyone
has experienced, first-hand or otherwise, alcohol-induced
multiple personality disorder. Join me as I re-experience
last weekend...
Knowing that a
good band was playing and being a musician myself, I intended
to simply hang out on the side and get rejuvenated and massaged
by a wall of sound and bass. No dancing, no drinking, no hoping
to meet the lady of my dreams. Just pure, therapeutic, rattle-the-windows
loud music. Such was not the case...
Approaching the
door, I saw a former co-worker outside talking on her cell
phone. Recalling her many drunken-stupor-dance-on-tables
stories she's told and being obviously reminded that she just
isn't my type, I try to to sneak past her with but a small
wave. It wasn't this easy.
"R-R-ROB!
OH MY HELL. I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE HERE!" (Into the
cell phone, "I gotta go.") She grabs me and sqeezes
me tight. "I AM SO HAPPY YOU CAME!"
Meet Sheila: The
HUGGY Drunk.
"I haven't
seen you in so long," she continues. "I have missed
you so much."
In
the Hugging Rules and Regulations Handbook, Rule
#1 states that at the point when either party begins to
break the hug, the other party should naturally and comfortably
release the squeeze. This rule is followed by most everyone.
Everyone except the Huggy Drunk.
I'm still being
held on to as I hear, "Everyone is going to be so happy
to see you."
Thankful
to learn that there are more people here, "Who else is
here?" I ask. Hugging Rule #2 states that unless
you are romantic partners or a long-lost family members, any
attempt at conversation warrants the breaking of the hug.
She
continues the hug, "I'm just so happy to see you. I
can't believe you're here. This is f'ing great!" But
she says this three times, each time somehow using different
words, as she also manages to acquire the characteristics
of yet another type of drunk...
The REPEAT EVERYTHING
MANY TIMES Drunk.
I manage to manually
extricate myself from the Hug as it starts to drizzle rain.
I suggest, "Sheila, I'm really happy to see you, too.
Is it possible we could maybe go inside?"
"Oh, Rob,
you're so funny. I'm so happy you're here." Another
hug.
This is the re-hug
that breaks Hugging Rule #3: Do not repeat the hug.
I somehow manage
to move the hug inside out of the rain, but that's as far
as we get. The person taking the money at the door, who's
sitting just a few feet inside the door, gets to witness not
one nor two, but three more hugs. The first took place once
inside. The second after I reached into my wallet for money.
The third after I paid the cover. Yet another hug took place
after I asked who else was here for the fifth time.
I realized then,
which was far too late, that in the Huggy Drunk's mind it
is perfectly acceptable to replace any form of conversational
interaction with a hug. So, instead of actually replying
to my question, she just gave me another hug.
Something
had to be done. I finally said, "Sheila, I'm loving
all the hugs. I really am. But if you hug me again I'm going
to have to kill you."
I spot the former
co-workers alluded to ten minutes prior and notice something
both wonderful and troubling: they're all women. Wonderful
because, well, hey, I'm a guy and there's women and there's
alcohol. Troubling because, well... I'm a guy and there's
women and there's alcohol. One woman under the influence
of alcohol is usually a good thing. Sometimes even two women
is a good thing. But three or more women together, all in
various states of being sloshed, and it becomes no-man's land.
If a group of women
get together and start talking while around a guy, the guy
will either have no clue as to what they're talking about
and sort of sit around like a lost puppy surrounded by laughing
female humans OR he'll become the butt of all anti-male rants
and jokes.
AND he'll still
be clueless.
As I get closer,
I see two of them consoling a third. The third is Carla.
But wait. Yet another hug as I am also introduced to everyone
as though I've never met them. During the hug, I rotate the
hugger and I around and wave to each of them, who all think,
"She is SO drunker than me." Several introductions
ago I had already released the hug and sort of just stood
there waving, hands shrugging, while my body continued to
be squeezed. This leads me to point out Rule #4 from the
Hugging Rules and Regulations Handbook...
Rule #4:
If, during the Hug, one party's hands are not at all touching
or squeezing, the other party must assume that the hug is
being manually terminated and should thus release the squeeze.
Back
to Carla. Carla is the drama queen -- that person whose life
is a parade of horrid circumstances; on-again-off-again relationship
with the father of her second child, this father/partner is
abusive who continually cheats on her because he's a good-looking
asshole, the girl he cheated with is now pregnant, she's concerned
she might have AIDS, no it's not AIDS but some other disease,
this is her fifth major illness - all of which require drugs
of some type, the state just cut off her welfare because the
bar she works at started reporting her income, her oldest
child called last night from the hospital -- she got in a
fight, the guy she met on the internet while her on-again-off-again-father-of-her-second-child
pseudo-boyfriend moved in with some floozy who lives in Connecticut
somehow managed to set fire to her apartment while he tried
to be all romantic and burning candles, the guy she met on
the internet turns out to have been discharged from the military
for violent rampages against women, Department of Social Services
wants to take away her youngest child because she wrote a
story in school about how she'd like to kill all her classmates,
her youngest child is in the first grade, but they won't take
her away as long as she promises to take her medications,
her daughter lost her medications...
And on and on and
on.
Some of you reading
this are probably thinking I'm just being a creative writer
and making all this up. Not only was I, along with roughly
30 other people, privvy to all these personal problems on
an almost daily basis at work, but we all got the benefit
of hearing her life story throughout the entire evening.
This is because Carla is...
The CRYING/CONFESSIONAL
Drunk.
Sitting next to
the Crying/Confessional Drunk... it's like one of those funny
mechanical carnival horoscope gurus that have a sensor in
the seat that will greet you and start spewing your horoscope
as soon as it senses someone has sat in the chair. It doesn't
matter who it is, but whomever sits in the chair next to Carla
turns her on and she begins replaying the horrible life drama
message.
Similar
to the CRYING/CONFESSIONAL Drunk, but definitely much more
entertaining, is the CHATTY/TALK-ABOUT-ANYTHING Drunk.
There were several of these sitting together telling their
own stories all at the same time. Fran is in mid-sentence...
"... when
me and a bunch of people called a cab and I told them, 'I
really gotta pee, guys' but that didn't seem to bother them
so we got in for a 20-minute ride and I was like, 'No, really,
I gotta go.' And the cab driver said, 'Don't pee in my cab!"
but he had that accent so we thought he said, 'Homer ate my
corn-on-the-cob' which totally didn't make any sense. I thought
I held it, but the cab driver stopped at one of those drive-thru
car washes and made us get out while he hosed down the back
seat."
"That happened
to me once," says Stacy. "Some of my boyfriend's
friends asked me to drive them to New York and I was like,
'No problem. What's in it for me?' They gave me free sneakers
and money."
"Free sneakers?
What the hell is that? That's almost as bad as Heather stealing
surfboards."
"We didn't
steal them. We just MOVED them to someone else's house.
A whole bunch of them. Hey, I was really drunk. But not as
drunk as YOU are, Sheila."
Sheila gives me
another hug, "I'm not drunk." This time, though,
she still has her drink in her hand and I'm totally expecting
beer poured down my back. It's miraculous how drunk people,
who can't walk across a room without stumbling, can somehow
never spill anything from THE PLASTIC CUP.
As I hug her I
notice that I'm giving the dreaded patting-on-the-back hug.
Hugging Rule
#5: The Pat-on-the-Back Hug. Let it be known that
should one party, mid-hug, start patting the other party on
the back, then this would indicate that the patting party
really is not all that sincerely interested or enthused about
the current hug and is moreso in "Hug Toleration"
mode. Should YOU be the patted party, simply accept this
and never initiate a hug with this person again. And should
the hug be a required hug (like those given at Wedding Parties,
family reunions, etc.) then you must also pat so as to let
the patter know, on a subconscious level, that you, also,
would prefer not to hug and instead would be quite content
with a hello and a handshake.
Someone
comes up from behind and rubs my chest, "Rob, come dance
with me." It's Melissa...
Meet the FLIRTY/SLUTTY
Drunk.
The
FLIRTY/SLUTTY Drunk is a huge source of confusion for
all men with a conscience. On one hand, despite the 80s-mesh-overly-sexy-but-somehow-just-not-right
outfit, she's still quite the hottie. And so, when she flirts
and dirty dances against my bod -- or, more likely, when she
lap dances on me since I stayed sitting when she insisted
on dancing -- I can't help but to get a thrill. On the other
hand, however, she's drunk so it's not like I can ever let
anything happen because then I'd be pond scum for taking advantage
of the FLIRTY/SLUTTY Drunk girl who really, deep down, just
wants to find a good guy and settle down.
Out on the dance
floor she says with a surprisingly astute ability to reason
given her intake level and the amount of slurring and stumbling,
"The way I see it, Rob, you have a choice. You can have
ME or you can go back to hugging Sheila."
She is very right
and so I "allow" her to continue seductively grinding
her pelvis into mine.
While
trying to keep up with my new dance partner, some guy pushes
me from behind and slurs, "You're dancing with my girl."
Allow me to introduce...
The ASSHOLE
FIGHTING Drunk.
I don't need to
explain them. These guys are everywhere. Apparently, Melissa
was flirting with him earlier and now I'm stuck with the Drunk
Asshole spitting in my face. Since no amount of reasoning
or apologies will ever stop him from insisting on fighting,
I use the only possible working non-fighting tactic...
I
let Melissa step up and kick his ass.
Yippee!
This, of course,
brings out the FEMALE FIGHT ANYTHING Drunk, who is
the girlfriend of the guy Melissa flirted with. The type
of drunk is actually named "The female who insists on
kicking any girl's ass who in any possible way accidently
flirted with her husband/boyfriend OR who was in some way
or another - even if it was imagined - insulted and so now
feels inclined to fight - male or female, it doesn't matter
- as a way to prove something or other," but this is
far too long of a title, isn't it?
Throughout
all of this, I sneak away and am confronted with...
The MUST NEVER
DRINK ALONE Drunk.
This is that person
who simply cannot handle being with, or having a conversation
with, or just standing next to, someone who is NOT drinking.
At any cost, they make sure you have a drink in your hand
- AT ALL TIMES! Since I, myself, do not drink, I meet these
kinds of drunks CONSTANTLY. People just can't handle the
non-drinker. They think it is impossible to enjoy one-self
unless alcohol is involved.
And so I hear,
yet again, "Dude, you're not drinking? You're not going
to have fun? Oh, here, have my Slippery Nipple."
And when people
see me drinking a Coke or continue to refuse their offers,
they automatically assume I'm a recovering alcoholic, "Dude,
way to go," they say. "Way to be strong."
I actually once
made the mistake of trying to explain to a group of people
who seemed sincerely interested as to why I don't drink; "I'm
a hypnotist and a Reiki Master and when I drink I notice that
the impurities in my body impede my ability to channel the
energy and thus my abilities to heal are dramatically diminished."
I was met with
silence and confused, blank stares. Seeing how that completely
killed any and all conversations and fun they were having,
I said, "Ha ha ha! Just joking. Really. I got trashed
last night so I'm trying to be good tonight." And they
loved me yet again and resumed their conversation about what,
VERY SPECIFICALLY, did they drink tonight and every other
night during their entire lives; "Oh my GAWD, that was
the night I had three shots of Jack, a half bottle of Dewars,
and someone brought in some Jello shots and..."
And
undoubtedly, somewhere, at some time, if any amount of conversation
takes place throughout the evening, there's at least one person
who is the Seriously-Invading-My-Personal-Space-Right-In-My-Face
Drunk. This is that person who moves closer... and closer...
and closer as you talk with him/her. What's strange about
this is it's usually a guy.
I heard the first
few sentences but then nothing else this person said registered
in my mind. All I could think of was, "This guy is like
SIX INCHES away from my face!" I look around for an escape
route, step back around a chair, and I'm followed because
I didn't really end the conversation. And once again, there
he is, talking to me about the overhead cam in his car or
about the greatest guitar player ever that was his cousin
who once toured with Whitney Houston -- and I'm worried that
if someone bumps me from behind, I'll end up kissing the guy.
Thankfully,
I hear giggling and I turn around to see that the Laughs-at-Anything-and-Everything-and-Can't-Stop-Giggling
Drunk has just witnessed someone slipping on some spilled
beer. She's kind of cute, so the Seriously-Invading-My-Personal-Space-Right-In-My-Face
Drunk scoots on over and starts breathing on her. This doesn't
bother her in the least. She spots a boogery hair in his nose
and starts cracking up.
As I return to
my co-worker's table, the stories are continuing...
"...and we
got pulled over because we were going too slow and the policeman
smelled weed in our car and I started crying..."
"... and those
people at the YMCA wanted us arrested because we'd been sneaking
in through the Daycare and using the facilities..."
"... and I
had to spend a night in a holding cell on the Tijuana border
and take a MADD class and go through alcohol rehabilitation
and all I can remember about the courses was that there were
these three guys who would fall asleep on a bench leaning
against each other and they'd wake up all flustered and embarrassed
having slept on each other like women in love."
Speaking
of LOVE, from out of nowhere...
"Rob, can
I just say this to you: I love you. I really do. I just love
you so much."
Meet the I LOVE
EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE Drunk.
She continues,
"And I love you, too, Heather. You are the greatest friend,
ever. I love those pants you wear with all the pockets. Those
are the coolest. And what is this drink? I LOVE this drink!"
And on and on and
on.
Have you ever been
to one of those New Age/Self Help seminars? If so, then I'm
sure you heard variations of this theme: The True Meaning
and Purpose of Life is LOVE.
Well,
if this truly were the case, then all they'd have to do is
round up a handful of I LOVE EVERYTHING Drunks and get them
liquoured up. The world's problems would be totally solved!
Probably the most enjoyable drunk is the HAPPY FRIENDLY
Drunk. Drinking just makes this person, usually a
female, happy. And friendly. Everyone is her friend. Everyone
is invited into her circle. Everything is Ok. The world is
good. Life is good.
This is a very confusing drunk to men who are unwise to the
Happy Friendly drunk because men always believe they actually
have a chance with this girl. They never do. She's not being
happy friendly because she's interested. She's just the Happy
Friendly drunk. She's in a great mood. She's dancing. She's
enjoying the music. She spills beer on her new cool boots
- that's ok, because she's happy. It doesn't matter what happens
because she's a little tipsy and she's having a good time.
And she never has time for a real conversation. This is why,
when the guy she just bumped into because he was standing
on the outside of group of people who are sort of not listening
to him, she quickly leaves. She doesn't have the time or the
slightest inclination to answer...
"You
know what the meaning of life is? I'll tell you what the meaning
of life is..."
Ah yes, The Everything-I-Say-is-the-Most-Breathtakingly-Original-and-Meaningful-and-Wise-Once-I-Start-I-Can-Never-Shut-Up-Let-Me-Explain-Man's-True-Purpose-and-All-of-Religion-and-Here's-How-Men-or-Women-REALLY-Think
Drunk; aka The PHILOSOPHICAL Drunk.
"The meaning
of life is kind of like, you know, when you look up into the
stars and you're like, 'Whoa!' because we are totally INSIGNIFICANT,
MAN! And then when someone dies, you know, it's like, THEY
ARE F'ING DEAD and then, you know, life is just too F'ING
SHORT to be worrying about smoking because you know, live
life to the fullest. I mean Carpe F'ing Diem! Burn the candle
at both ends because it is SO F'ING BETTER to burn out than
to fade away, you know what I'm saying..."
And
as I start to leave, I hear what every musician who's ever
played in a club has heard many times over...
"OOHH DUDE!
You are awesome! You. KICK. ASS."
This is the
I SORT OF PLAY AN INSTRUMENT BUT REALLY DON'T AND THINK ANYONE
WHO ACTUALLY DOES PLAY AN INSTRUMENT IN FRONT OF PEOPLE
LIKE IN A BAND OR SOMETHING IS ALMOST FAMOUS AND SO I'LL COMPLIMENT
THEM PROFUSELY IN HOPES THAT MAYBE THEY'LL TAKE ME HOME AND
FEED ME PANCAKES AND LET ME HANG OUT WITH THEM Drunk aka
the Way-Too-Much-Loves-The-Band Drunk.
"You ROCK,
man! You played the SH* out of that m'ther f'er! KICK. ASS.
MAN!"
These drunks also
think that compliments laced with vulgarities are more meaningful
to the person receiving the compliment. Usually, though, we
musicians just smile and hope that the guy -- and it's always
a guy, girls never do this -- doesn't trip over a chord or
an amp and smash some of the equipment or spill beer on our
speakers.
All in all, I had
a great evening listening to the music and cavorting once
again with my friends (even if I didn't drink; so yes, it
IS possible to have fun without alcohol-induced euphoria/stupor).
Hug Rule #6:
The Sincere Hug
Often, you really
do want to show someone that you care and that you truly appreciate
them. The Sincere Hug consists primarily of a tight, 2-3
second-long squeeze followed by the backing up and sharing
of a kind word...
And so, Consider
yourself Sincerely Hugged.
I appreciate your
interest in my crap.