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Given that my last Wicked Wednesday event occurred years after my very first night of drinking that went horribly wrong, one would think that I had learned my lessons by the time I was in my late 30s. Not so. I was going out with my friends J, C, and M. By then I was doing Girls Nights Out (of which some will show up here in Wicked Wednesdays), and really not drinking all that much. I thought I had learned my lesson. Was I wrong! I love red wines, Merlot, and Cabernet Sauvignon are my absolute favorites. I'd already been a vegetarian for a number of years, but reds go well with lots of dishes. On this particular night we were going to dine at Oliveto, and dessert at Bittersweet. I had also invited L, a co-worker who had recently ended a relationship (and upon whom I had a crush). This was lining up to be a horrible ending right from the beginning! Dinner was yummy with pasta and bread (plenty to soak up the alcohol), and in my crushy nervousness, I ended up drinking nearly a bottle of wine by myself. I likely also talked way too loud and laughed way too much. The wine certainly clouded my judgement when we arrived at Bittersweet. A pots de creme, a hot chocolate and a chocolate bar later, and we walked back to BART. I was feeling really good, though my lack of an antacid was starting to be a point of some concern. By the time we boarded the train and were in motion I realized that I was going to be sick, likely all over the train, and near my friends. I was panicky, and upon realizing my panic, my dear friends started looking for items I could vomit into, including emptying my purse, but my stomach was not hearing of it. I ended up keeping it in my mouth until we arrived at the next stop, I got off the train, hurried to the nearest restroom (in an unfamiliar station no less), and exited the restroom victorious. Not a drop on me, the restroom, the train, or my friends, who were all concerned, but duly impressed with my ability to keep something truly disgusting in my mouth without further retching. (Keep your dirty minds to yourselves, thankyouverymuch!) We boarded the next train and headed home without further embarrassment on my part (Thankfully). This event had closely followed yet another red wine incident that I will detail perhaps next week. Since then, I have only had a sip of red wine on rare occasion (maybe twice), and I am sad that I can't really drink wine anymore because I'm not into whites.
1 comment:
Ah, a time of heroic restraint and thoughtful friendship.
And why do they always hide the washrooms in unfamiliar stations?
Glad you guys were riding the BART!
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