This weekend in alcoholism…

First try:

  • Taking an anger-fueled, weapon-free stroll through pitch-black Prospect Park at 1 a.m.
  • Lying on a park bench outside of Prospect Park at 1:30 a.m., crying
  • Arrive home at 2 a.m., wake roommate with yelling, respond to her yelling with a swift slap to her face
  • $22 poorer next day in book-purchase-as-apology

Why not give it another shot:

  • Meet Trini neighbor’s kind and generous family, shatter 24 oz. Corona bottle on their porch
  • Show off my ass-shaking “skills” while dancing with Trini grandma, am told I’m “highly intoxicated” by intimidatingly Amazon woman—am also invited to Trinidad for Carnival (good)
  • Decide more Grey Goose is a swell idea, blackout before we leave, wake up brownout in my living room in puddle of piss (bad)
  • Meet temporary roommate for the first time, eat pineapple and chat while he cooks, still brownout, still soaked in urine (he didn’t seem to notice)
  • Next-day hangover + dealing with pee-soaked fabrics and pee-scented apartment = why haven’t I put my finger down my throat yet?
Here’s to getting wasted like a good 16-year-old should.
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