When I was a younger man I could drink any amounts of alcohol and be fine to run a marathon the next day. But now... Now that I am much, much older (23), my body is no longer capable of handling alcohol.
The other night I celebrated a friends birthday. When you become a certified adult, you are no longer allowed to celebrate with candlelit cakes, ice cream parties, or clown-filled festivities. Instead you are forced to celebrate with alcohol, and lots of it.
We started the celebration at 2 o'clock in the afternoon with a couple glasses of wine. By 5 we were playing drinking games. By 7 we were eating steak that was beer battered-- the beer batter doesn't actually get you drunk, but still... lots of beer consumption over here! By 9 we were at the bars ordering doubles and seeing triples. By midnight we were lying on the floor of the bar, unable to do anything more than crawl to our next drink. By closing time we were dragged by our toes into an Uber and driven home. Literally didn't see a single cake the entire day.
We stumbled into the house and, to celebrate the fact that we had made it home alive, cracked open a couple more beers and continued the party. It wasn't long until our bodies shut down and we passed out in the very spots that we once stood.
The next morning I awoke with the largest headache I have ever experienced. I felt as if my body had died, but my mind had not accepted its death sentence and attempted to keep on living without the body, but it just wasn't working.
I have a very particular hangover cure.
"We're in a drought!!" I know you are thinking to yourself, but I was dying, so droughts don't apply to dead guys. It's called science.
So after the shower failed, I tried coffee. It failed. I ate greasy food. It failed. There was nothing that would stop my head from pounding and my soul from screaming, "Why, oh, why did you do this to me?!?" God reached down and picked me up by the shirt and, saying nothing, shook his head with immense disappointment... Then he sent his angels down to earth, not to save me, but to punch me in the face a couple hundred times, only increasing the headache and my hatred for existence.
I lied down on the couch and assumed that eventually the hangover would fade... it did not... and, instead... I died from the hangover. R.I.P. to me.