Anyway, my husband and I had a lot of raffle tickets so we were wandering around dropping them into the various baskets when we ran into another couple my husband knows. They were just the nicest people. The husband played golf with my husband a few weeks ago and I guess their history goes wayback. The wife was shitfaced.
She was staggering, swaying, and overly exuberant (hugging me more than once even though we had only just met).
At one point during one of her animated and noisy stories, she stepped back and tripped over an easel that was displaying an enormous mirror, nudging it back half a foot and causing it to sway a little. I caught her arm and pulled her back towards our circle, as I exhaled the gasp that had caught in my throat. She was oblivious to the potential disaster. (There was another easel-mirror combo on the other side of the aisle that would have fallen in a domino effect if the first had bumped it.)
I've heard the saying, "God looks out for drunks, fools, and small children." He was definitely looking out for this woman that day.
We didn't stay too long at this event because we had another commitment, but I thought about the drunk woman for a while.
I have been that drunk woman -- the woman who is just a little too loud, a little too friendly, a little too sloppy. I envisioned several scenarios about how the night could go for her, based on my own experience.
1. She could maintain her happy buzz. Maybe she'd get something to eat to temper the alcohol. She'd pace herself so that she didn't cross the line into blackout territory. If she felt her buzz slipping away, she'd swill off her husband's drink, or maybe get another one (or two) of her own. Maintaining takes a lot of conscious energy but is the ideal scenario.
2. She could just keep drinking, fortunate to avoid any embarrassing disasters, but maybe go pass out somewhere for an hour or so. It would still be early when she woke up so she might begin round two for the night (or three for the day, as the case may be. It was Saturday.)
3. She could cause a scene. Maybe she fell or threw up or knocked something over. The band would stop playing and everyone would turn to look at her while she stumbled around picking up the pieces and trying to put everything back together again. The silence would be deafening and her face, neck, and ears would burn with shame. Maybe someone would come to help her, or lead her away from the mess she just created, while she slumped somewhere in a corner, sobbing tears of self-pity and remorse, lighting a cigarette and swilling another drink that one of her well-meaning friends brought her (or that she simply found on a table somewhere). She'd keep drinking until she either forgot what she did or convinced herself it wasn't that bad. Best case, someone else would create a bigger scene and she could deflect with a sense of schadenfreude, "Did you see what So-and-so did...?"
If she was lucky enough to live out scenario 1, she wouldn't feel too bad about herself the next day. She might have remorse about overeating, but will probably congratulate herself for staying in control.
If it was scenario 2, she'd have to work a little harder to convince herself that she had everything under control, but it's still possible since she doesn't remember doing anything to call attention to herself. Social drinkers don't get drunk, and they certainly don't get drunk more than once in a 24-hour period.
Scenario 3 would definitely require a morning drink. It would be the only way to dissipate the shame, guilt, and remorse and convince herself it wasn't that bad. She might call or text some of her well-meaning friends who would reassure her that it was not that bad; that yes, indeed, what So-and-so did was far worse. She'll fish around for details, discreetly, since she can't exactly remember the whole night. (She can't remember anything after 6:00 p.m. actually, and has no idea how many hours she lost because she doesn't have a clue what time she got home.) She'll be mixing cocktails and smoking cigarettes while she drinks and dials.
In any scenario, she'll be drinking again the next day.
As horrifying as it is to live like that, I actually said to my husband, "I would have liked to drink with her."
He's a social drinker, but his ex-wife crossed the line and brought everything from the dark side into their marriage (which is why it's over) so he might have more of a clue than many about what I mean.
However, unless you are an alcoholic or an addict yourself, you will never understand how you can simultaneously adore and be reviled by the demon spirits that rule your life; to be at their mercy, to resent being an utter slave to an addiction, yet at the same time feel complete joy when you've got a full bottle in hand.
My new friend, the drunk, told me she was a nurse. To me, this demonstrates the ability to uphold two opposing ideas in one's brain at the same time. Surely a health professional is well schooled on the dangers of alcohol abuse, yet somehow compartmentalizes that into a different part of the brain that she uses when justifying getting drunk. And yes, she's definitely a drunk. She was breathing, spitting, and exuding alcohol, no doubt completely saturated.
When I first started drinking as a young teen, I thought alcohol was the answer to all my problems. When I quit drinking in my late twenties, I knew alcohol was the root of all my problems. ALL OF THEM.
Getting sober was one of the biggest do-overs of my life.
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