Absinthe makes the heart grow wronger……

August 7, 2007

Never have I been so sick, so much in such a short space of time - Absinthe is now a mortal foe far more feared than any other potent alcoholic shot of death - I thought the Flaming Lamborghini was bad (rum/tequila/sambuca/amarula - on fire and via a straw in all of 4 seconds) but Absinthe takes the full packet of biscuits now - and it tastes as bad as it is potent as well - an asinine acidic punch to the throat - it’s said to be 82% proof and hallucinogenic - I was seeing stars.

After the second shot no one from the group of five partaking can remember anything else from the evening - collective memory loss all round - only Anna could piece together events - wasted though she was it was still her job to try and look after me - I was in a mess you see - no food all day unless you count a piece of bread for a flyby brekkie and a few calamari rings in the bar - I arrived late thanks to Eurostar and tried to make up for lost drinking time in the only way I know how - order doubles and drink them quickly.

Absinthe arrived soon after - a bravado drink if ever there was one - from reading up on it you’re supposed to dilute with water or mix with sugar - something to do with flames etc - that makes it more palatable - it’s not best to just down the hatch - which is what we did.

Faces of Anguished horror abounded - safe to say nobody was really expecting the evil now within us - a cooling off period was padded out with Tequila, Sambuca and everyone’s usual’s like my double JD’s and coke - eventually some Moonbat bought another round of Absinthe though - the same faces gathered - certainly a little more reluctantly than last time - glasses chinked - down in one.

Not quite

This time I coughed as it went down - and we all know what happens when you cough while drinking - it comes back out through your nose - that was a deep burn I tell you - Nasal passages awash with Absinthe - the horror - the burn - I’d not felt this bad since the Indonesian wasabi incident when I found out that the big glob of green stuff I’d just wolfed was not some form of strange freaky butter.

To make matters worse the absinthe runs out of my nose and back into my mouth - like doing the same shot twice in all of a few seconds - not good.

When things like that happen to you, the best thing to do is take a minute and compose yourself and then ease off the gas and get some water inside you before things go too far into the world of the wrong - too late - the body would normally have begun to take automatic precautions against further damage by implementing the vomit programme - expel the evil - but the body was still reeling from the whole absinthe out the nose incident and was not sure what the fuck had just happened - this allowed the moonbat in me to take over and pour more fuel on the fire in the form of the usual alcoholic riders of the blackout apocalypse - Sambuca, Tequila and Vodka - when the body got its bearings back, the effect was instantaneous - STOP! It’s Chin Loss Time!

One minute you’re having a conversation - well, attempting one anyway - and the next you’ve got a mouth full of sick - bit shoots out the corner of your mouth - but for the most part you’re about as golden as you can get in such a situation - exit stage right and get your monkey ass to a porcelin god - start praying.

Luckily the bar staff didn’t see - I have a snapshot recollection of this event - couple of images - nothing more - Anna was the witness - I didn’t feel proud as she regaled the tale - but she assured me there was worse to come.

There was.

Once the cacophony of gibbons making up our group had been removed from the bar, we attempted taxi hailing and after a lot of lucking out managed to persuade one foolish individual that we were worth a shot at the title - must of been a slow night and he needed to up the takings, so ended up risking it.

Bad move.

Apparently I opened the door of the taxi as it slowed - hurled like a champion - and then followed the vomit right out the cab door - landed in my own sick - bust my knee and rolled into the path of oncoming traffic.

Saved from death I was, but taxi driver had seen enough and a compromise of dropping us in clapham at Georges was reached instead.

I imagine it was probably this point at which I was nothing more than a liability to my friends and in particular Anna, whose house in Kingston we were heading back to at the time - there’s a few times I can pick out during all the time I’ve known her (19 years) where she would probably of been considering the continuation of our friendship - one is when I was so far gone on Tequila that I upchucked over her net curtains in Bournemouth before trying to bite people who tried to assist me - another is when I lost track of time having a hangover breakfast with Coops up in Edinburgh and, because Anna is a true friend and didn’t want to leave without me, consequently made us all miss our flight back to London which was then followed by an Easyjet classic 15 hour delay - 15 hours - you can’t ever say sorry enough for that - there’s nothing you can do or say that’s going to alter the fact that the reason everyone is sitting in a departure lounge for 15 hours is the fact you, and you alone, are a massive idiot of galactic proportions.

I think this particular Absinthe Friday may now be added to the list.

Especially when they managed to get me into the house and I threw up all over Georges floor - the deluge of which Anna stemmed with one G’s saucepans.

I was put to bed - fell out of bed - made new bed out of Dave Jenkins washing on the floor - people tried to put me back in the bed - I tried to bite them - eventually I was overpowered and passed out.

Next morning I awoke to find Bear lying next to me in a bed and room I did not recognise - I quickly realised that I had no idea about how I had got here or what had happened from around midnight onwards - nor whose T-shirt it was I was now wearing.

Minds were more or less blank when it came to fellow Absinners Bear, G and Lockey (who had thought his car had been stolen so drunkenly argued with police until they established it had in fact been towed - was going to cost him 260 quid - and was now in Milwall) - I had no idea what happened to Barnes whose birthday it was - he must of been lost in the ether.

Absintheless Anna explained what had gone on - none of it good basically.

My knee was in the first stages of swelling to balloon proportions and my head felt like brass band playing mice on amphetamines had infiltrated my brain - and I smelled pretty bad - good night then.

Perhaps Anna decided it’s too late to change the friends you have for life and so therefore is still speaking to me.

Absinthe makes the heart go wronger - never ever, ever again.

Sorry Anna - I will indeed make it up to you one day. Promise.

Spo | August 7, 2007