DISCLAIMER: We do not condone teenage drinking.
The Drunkest I’ve Ever Been
The year was 1995. The summer before my senior year in high school. I was an awkward 17 year old, 130lbs wet and wearing boots.
The year beforehand, someone introduced me to Southern Comfort. At first, I mixed it with Dr. Pepper because they mixed so well together, but soon enough, I began to enjoy it straight and would regularly down a pint on a Friday or Saturday night. The pint seemed to be the perfect amount for me. It would take me hours to drink, so I would get a good buzz and it wasn’t too much for my skinny frame to handle. I had it all figured out... Until I didn’t...
Drinking in high school had its challenges. You had to know somebody that was over 21 and irresponsible enough to buy your punk, underaged ass liquor. It was hit or miss. Sometimes it seemed too easy and other days felt like alcohol would never be available again. So when I decided one night to have my plug buy me the largest bottle of SoCo on the market, it seemed like a good investment. I wouldn’t need another bottle for weeks! In addition to that, he bought the 100 proof, I normally drank the 80 proof and thought the 100 would make that bottle last well into my 30s!
It did not. I drank about 3/4s of it in a couple hours. The last thing I remember is taking a sip at a friend’s house then BAM! BLACKOUT!
The first thing I do when I wake up is look at the clock and check what time it is. That morning I rolled over, looked at the clock, realized it was just a little after 7am and thought I would sleep in a little while longer... then I realized it was the clock on our stove... and that I was sleeping on the kitchen floor.
My mother then came in the kitchen and said “you were so drunk last night....” and before she could complete her sentence, the exact moment I heard her utter the word “drunk,” I immediately started throwing up.
I spent the better part of that day dry heaving. I had thrown up everything that was on my stomach but my body still wanted to punish me for the night before. The longer the day went on, the more I began to learn about the night before. I lost my Social Security card and my pager. (Is there anything that says 1995 more than losing a pager?) I had scratches on my arm because I had apparently fallen out of a truck. I had thrown up all over a friend’s car and worst of all, my friends were forced to take me home and that’s where it gets interesting...
I passed out on the way home, so my father had to come out of the house in the middle of the night and get me out of the car. I was drunk, loud, and throwing up and for some reason my mother was worried about “what the neighbors would think” (That’s hilarious to me) At one point in all of the commotion, my father’s bare ass was exposed, although I remember none of why and how this happened as the details are sketchy.
My parents called the paramedics. I had alcohol poisoning. They wanted to hose me down in the driveway but my father wouldn’t let them. As drunk and sick and loud as I was, my parents and my sister still had the presence of mind to snap a pic and commemorate the moment and honestly, I would have done the same!
When I finally sobered up a little, my father had a talk with me. He told me that he knew this day would come the day that I was born and that he wasn’t going to punish me because he was sure that the epic hangover I was experiencing was enough. He was right. I was sick for two days and I don’t recall drinking again until prom night, which was over half a year later.
23 years have passed since that night. In that time I’ve done 4 and 1/2 years at Georgia’s top party school, thrown and DJ’d endless parties, downed more Patron than I care to remember, and that night in 95 is still the drunkest I’ve ever been!
Side note: I haven’t had a sip of SoCo since and the smell still makes me nauseated...