In hindsight I should have gone home after I insisted Chris take this ridiculous photo with me on Friday night.
We’d finished dinner, it was nearly my bedtime (10:30 p.m.) and I’d clearly had enough. But instead I got on a trolley with a the rest of the Nebraska hooligans and no good came from the night.
I always get nervous when Chris’s buddies come to town. Because they don’t just bring themselves when they come, they bring a feeling of nostalgia. Of college nostalgia. And I’m too old for that college feeling. Way too old. I’m not sure about your significant others’ friends, but chris’s friends like to party. They party way too hard for this old girl.
Yet there I was Friday night at dinner taking shots of Sambuca because the Buca Fairy, aka Drew Welch, was in town and that’s what you do. Is Sambuca a Nebraska thing? Does anyone else do this? Next to Malort, Sambuca is the most foul tasting thing ever. I avoid it like the plague. Unless of course the Nebraska boys come to Chicago for a weekend…
Anyway, one thing led to another and at some point all of the guys were doing flips (or maybe it was just Chris doing flips) on a bar thing inside of the trolley- if I remember correctly it was like a horizontal bar similar to monkey bars at a playground? Maybe it wasn’t, I don’t know. Never one to turn away from acrobatics after a few drinks, I wanted to show off my skills as well.
So I grabbed the bar and tried to hurl myself backwards and instead hurled myself on the ground very hard. SMACK goes my head. It was a hit like a toddler would take falling out of a booth at a restaurant. My head hit so hard it bounced right back up like a bouncy ball.
Oh it hurt alright. But I think what hurt more was my pride. I’ve always been very agile and prided myself on my ability to do random monkey bar flips at a moment’s notice. But there I was lying on the floor of a trolley like an idiot. Like a girl in her late twenties trying to do monkey bar flips on a trolley… I was that girl.
And so I picked myself up, said I was okay, and remained quiet for the rest of night as I reflected on the poor decisions I had made.
The following day I had to pull myself together to go to a Derby party. I wanted to skip it I felt so bad, but I made myself go as punishment. Sure we look happy, but I’m in a world of hurt right here.
That’s the thing I hate about heavy drinking and why I rarely do it anymore, it’s not just a one day event. It continues to haunt me for days after. I’m still not feeling like myself. Then again that could also have something to do with the head trauma I experienced as well.
So excuse me while I try to pull myself together today. It’s not going to be easy.