So it all started with me wanting to go home for Chinese New Years. I'm pretty sure this was the catalyst because two things happen whenever I go home:
1. I get drunk the night before.
2. I have a lot of difficulty at the airport the next day.
I guess I don't learn lessons.
So on Thursday to cap off a two week period of midterms/fundraisers/dipping stuff I'm not allowed to eat in chocolate for five hours in one sitting/essays I got really drunk. I'm not going to go into details about the depths of my inebriation, but suffice to say it is a good thing I made that rule about wearing pants (or at the very least leggings) to parties way back in freshman year because I'm pretty sure at some point in the night I was not in total control of my limbs.
But this isn't really about the impressive amounts of cheap vodka I consumed or how I lost in semis in the beer pong tournament despite my amazing explosion shot to win the previous game or how around 2 AM I decided to play DJ and Maaron yelled at me for trying to put on old P. Diddy songs.
This is about the dangers of the morning after. So listen carefully, kids. You'll want to avoid the mistakes I made.
First of all - I'm not going to mince words - I looked like shit Friday morning. I had gotten home at four AM and by the time I showered (I have to shower before I get into bed no matter how opposite of sober I am - yes I am the epitome of hygiene) and dragged my dizzy self into bed it was god knows what time. And since I had a flight to catch at 1:30 I had changed my work hours that day to 8-11 and if you know me at all you'll know what a rough morning I had by the fact that I WORE GLASSES. Yes. Out in public.
The whole day was actually really comical in that kind of hazy, hungover, oh-my-god-is-this-really-happening way.
Let's list them:
1. The glasses thing. Trust me, it was serious. On top of that I was late because have you ever tried to wake up at seven after two hours of sleep while hungover? Then you understand why I didn't have time to put on make up or consider what to wear because I ended up in a pair of shiny red pants (I actually like these pants, and I totally wronged them with the rest of my outfit), this completely non-matching cream top and my Prolit sweatshirt. And purple moccasins. I basically looked like the personification of a hangover. Before I left I looked in the full length mirror by my front door and could only shake my head.
2. I had to bring my luggage to work since I was leaving straight from the office. I also had to bring the crushgrams that my co-workers bought for me. And I am so sick of hearing about them from the fundraiser that I don't want to explain but basically it was a six pack of glass soda bottles. Which I precariously balanced on my rolling suitcase while walking the four blocks to work. In my glasses. It felt like some sort of strange and strenuous dream.
3. Luckily my work is awesome so everyone sympathized and gave me different bits of advice on how to not die but THEN. Oh my god. This is kind of complicated but basically what happened was that Tando came into the office for the first time since he stopped working there, and I don't want to get into details but I was SO MAD that the one day I come into work looking like shit he happens to have an errand up at the office. When he came in through the door I lifted my head from its resting place on the table and was like "Jesus, please tell me you are joking," but nope. And I'm not saying that I look gorgeous when I step into the office everyday but I definitely don't usually look like a TellyTubby got drunk and threw up and the puke put on glasses and became me. And it's not like I'm trying to impress anyone but seriously. Talk about adding insult to injury.
4. Did you know airports had terminals? Well me and my hangover didn't. I'd never taken any airline other than Southwest from LAX, and Southwest is at terminal 1 right next to the security. So since I was already checked in for my United flight I was like "oh I'll just get off at Southwest because I'll be closer to security." Uh WRONG. United is at terminal 7. I was so confused. I literally had to text Arrow because I was like WTF WHERE AM I? And because he is the best friend a hungover girl can ask for (and has a strangely comprehensive understanding of the LAX floorplan) he directed me to the right place. It's not interesting enough to go in depth into but let me just tell you a shuttle was involved. That was how far I was from my flight.
5. The shuttle went to the ARRIVALS section of terminal 7. And there was this one other middle aged guy on the shuttle who got on and off at the same stops as I did (which helped because I was like oh hey I'm not the only one who makes these mistakes, and this guy doesn't even look hungover so he soberly made this mistake) so I started following him and he KEPT LOOKING BACK worriedly at me. I mean I was looking a mess and probably had on a pretty grim expression because I was wondering if I would miss my flight and also mentally vowing to never drink again but still after the fifth time he looked back I was starting to feel like an old-person stalker. Which didn't really help.
6. I made it to my gate in the nick of time. My flight was delayed. For two hours. My laptop and phone both ran out of batteries so I couldn't tell my dad when I was taking off. I had to pee but I couldn't because they loaded us onto the plane and THEN announced the delay. (I don't like airplane bathrooms.) I sat behind a crying baby.
Oh and on my way to the Flyaway shuttle I was telling Mango how I will never ever drink again and he gave me a baleful look and was like "you always say that. but you always do again" and I was like "oh this must be what it's like to be an alcoholic parent."
And that was my Friday. Happy Chinese New Year's everyone.
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