August 24, 2012

  • My Hangovers: A Wayback Post

    I'd love to say that I've never had a hangover or an embarrassing experience in my life, but of course that's just not true. The truth is that I've had so many "worst experiences" that I can hardly single out just one. I've never believed I'm an "alcoholic" yet I've had many "hangovers". I've done some really stupid things in my life, and have really peeved some people off because of it. I thought, in the spirit of Jack Kerouac, who shared with me a love of "speed" at one time in our lives, that I would just type and free associate, instead of preparing an essay.

    So many people tell me I write "such long entries" (hence the Kerouac reference, he attached a roll of paper to his typewriter when writing "On the Road" so he didn't have to change sheets of paper and interrupt his rambling train of thought.) so I'll attempt to "make this short", but in my own inimitable way, I will not list just "one" experience. I'll spill my guts for you all about every damn embarrassing moment I can remember!

    1. The earliest "worst experiences" (notice the plural) occurred during field trips to the L.A. County Fair when I was in elementary school during the 60s. Each year, almost the whole school, from first to sixth, would go on a massive field trip to the L.A. County Fair. Six or eight of those large school busses would line up in the parking lot, ferrying dozens of screaming kids to paradise at the Fair. This wasn't a regular field trip, for learning purposes, but an outing that occurred right as the school year began in September. I never went on one of these excursions because of my perennial "weak bladder". None of the teachers or parent chaperones wanted to be stuck with me needing to go to the bathroom continually, so I would always have to stay at the nearly deserted school and read, which was really okay, because I loved to read, but I am still embarrassed about having to stay behind while the whole school got to have fun.

    2. During college, I missed my Mathematics final in my third year. I don't know why at this late date. College schedules can be hectic, and because I attended both day and night school on different days to accommodate my 40 hour a week work schedule, it was easy to mix up dates. Finals are somewhat important during college, however, and make up a goodly percentage of the grade. I was an English Lit major, so my few sciences and math courses were required. I remember very well walking up the steps to the classroom, and wondering why everything was so quiet. When the knob to the room didn't turn, I was devastated. I remember great disappointment that lasted about 15 seconds, and then I think I went to the museum or park to while away the next hour and a half. I never repeated the course. Then Dad died, and I eventually dropped out of school.

    3. After one particularly raucous night of heavy drinking and partying, I was supposed to accompany a friend on a hiking trip up in the Angeles National Forest. My hiking friend was not a big drinker, and engaged in healthy sports and exercise. He arrived at my door at the appointed time, right when I was just starting to settle down from the spinning in my head. I had completely forgotten about the hiking trip, and didn't want to go. But he urged me to shower, and get dressed, and I ended up with a particularly bad headache, hiking through the hills. When passing another on the trail, one should always be hearty and hale, and I can remember it was quite a chore to even try to smile and greet the other hikers.

    4. When I moved to Torrance in 1974, in my early 20s I became a regular fixture on the "beach party circuit". One time I was driving back from a party in one town, through three others back to my apartment. (I do not condone drinking and driving, which is never a good idea even in the most "normal" seeming circumstances.) It was one of those routes that I travelled so often I always said my "car memorized the trip" and I didn't have to think about which turns I would make, or where I would be stopping for red lights. My car, a classic 1961 bullet nosed Thunderbird, ran out of gas somewhere along the trip, and I got out with my gas can, at about 2 or 3 in the morning, and blindly started looking for a gas station. I half remember talking to some wandering drunk who told me they were all closed, and I ended up walking home, which was probably eight blocks away. The next day I enlisted the help of my friend Harry, we filled the gas can, and went looking for my car.

    5. I drank quite a bit of alcohol in my youth. I also took a good share of hallucinogens. While "fu*ked up" I would experience many concerts, trips to bars, nights out with the boys, and parties. One weekend afternoon, partying with my friend Keith, I journeyed to a bar in Long Beach right on the water. Keith drove. Since it was afternoon, the sun was shining, and the bar wasn't as packed as it would be later that evening. We were somewhat drunk when we started the journey, which took us about 15 miles from my apartment. At the bar, Keith spotted a friend of his. He was gay, but I don't think I knew it at the time. As he chatted up his friend, I spied a good looking gal sitting at the bar and as I swallowed drink after drink, I conversed with my newfound friend. At some point I must have passed out. Drinking vast amounts of alcohol can cause one to do so. It is much better to be in your own bed when this happens. I don't remember the end of my conversation. I don't remember what happened to the girl, or my friend Keith, who undoubtedly left to go to his friend's house. I awoke early in the evening, as the sun was setting, in one of the booths of the bar. (Probably I was riled by one of the barkeeps, since they were getting busy.) I left, with a screaming hangover, bloodshot brain, and discombobulated memory. Keith was gone. Darkness was falling, and I ended up standing at a bus stop on Ocean Blvd, and ended up getting back to my place on public transportation.

    6. I hosted an "Electric Kool Aid Acid Test" at my apartment in the late 70s, and I was so messed up that I grabbed a knife and started cutting up some photographs I had hanging on the wall. My guests, about 10 in number, all left the "party" as my demeanor got worse and worse. As the LSD took it's toll thought my psyche, I was having what was generally known as "a bad trip". "See ya, Mike" one after another of my friends would proclaim as they left. When alone, I peaked, and I tore apart my papier mache "dummy" called Croaker, who was life size, and had one of those Mexican porcelain skulls for a head. I 'killed him'. Since his insides were stuffed with pillows, when I tore him apart (using the aforementioned knife) I ripped open a pillow stuffed with orange colored kapok. Upon regaining some of my senses about 12 hours later after the "trip" I groggily looked around the apartment, and the scattered bits of orange foam resembled blood and guts to my demented acid soaked mind.

    7. I once passed out in my apartment with the music blaring so loudly that somebody complained and the police were called to snuff the noise. It was a stormy night and the police arrived in rain slickers. They pounded on the door, but I was dead to the world. Finally, they roused me. I opened the door, head almost bursting, to hear their proclamation. "This is the police." "You can't be police", I slurred. Police are Blue. You're YELLOW!" I'm pretty lucky I didn't get arrested. I did turn the music down and retire.

    8. I partied so hard in those days (1974-81) that sometimes I would go to three or four places, either bars, apartments, or outside beachside gathering places, in an evening. I was always passing out, and then regaining consciousness, sometimes in another place, and returning to the party. I would also "black out" where I would be "active" and  moving around, but wouldn't remember my actions the next morning. This would cause quite a lot of embarrassments as I would suddenly "wake up" in a place where I knew not a soul, and then would have to try to remember where I left my car, and how to get home. One time my roommate and I went out to a bar only three blocks from our apartment, so we didn't have to worry about "driving" home. I chatted up some bikers at the bar, and I got a little loudmouthed as the evening wore on. At some point, I blacked out, and probably said something I would later regret. When I finally awoke, I was stumbling through somebody's living room about two blocks from the bar. I knew the resident of the house, but wasn't aware that I did. My last memory was drinking in the bar. The guy in the house freaked a bit, but was able to get my phone number from me, and called my apartment, where my roommate had finally gone after he "lost me" when I was out with the bikers. Seems I had been beat up pretty badly. My wallet and money had been stolen, and I was left in the gutter a few doors down from the bar. When I came to, I stumbled around, and somehow walked into this guy's house. My roommate walked down to 'get me', since this all happened within blocks of where I lived, and took me home. It is a good thing that I actually knew the guy into whose house I stumbled, or else I would have spent the night in jail.

    Suffice it to say that I quit drinking soon after the last episode. I admitted I had a problem, and remained sober for many years, finally falling "off the wagon" when I was fired from my job as a manager at Target Stores in 1987. But that's another embarrassing story!


    This is an edited version of an entry originally presented for the Featured Grownups blogring on Oct. 22, 2005. It got 28 comments. And only one of the commenters is still an active Xangan!

Comments (41)

  • Hi, Mike,

    "This is the police." "You can't be police", I slurred. Police are Blue. You're YELLOW!"  This made me LOL

    Drinking too much and doing drugs can lead to interesting stories, but I'm glad you gave it up. From the sounds of it, if you hadn't, you'd probably not be here today.

    Personally, I've never been able to give up whatever control of my mind that I have, however little it may actually be. I had two screwdrivers once. Not roaring drunk, by any means, but it scared me because I was not my normal self. That and the fact that there are too many alcoholics in my family (on both sides), and the fact that I simply don't like the taste of most alcohol (probably mostly this one) are why I don't drink. 

    My embarrassing stories are sillier and with no excuses. Like sitting a the car waiting for my husband and "talking" to (barking at) the dogs in the next car... and two teen girls called me out on it. Or reaching behind me to get my friend's attention and patting her on the breast (I thought I had her shoulder until I grabbed), in front of everyone. Of course, I got everyone's attention! 

    I put you in my Google reader so there's a slightly greater chance I'll get back here more often, but I'm way behind reading there, as well as at Xanga, so it's hit or miss -- as with everything online for me these days.


  • statue of limitations has run out

    really I could qualify for AA and NA but I quit cold turkey after many bad episodes

    I also quit smoking and that was the hardest

  • I once sat on the deck of the yacht club in Barbados waiting for the rest of our party to show up. there were two of us and we spent our time drinking rum punches. In that place at that time the mix cost more than the rum so the drinks served - which were very tasty - were about 3/4 rum. We each had eight or ten and when the rest of the party showed up they took one look and said "Figure on spending the rest of the night in that chair"My fellow cadet  said "Hey I'm alright"stood up and fell like he'd been poleaxed. I spent the rest of the night in that chair.

    I've never been partial to rum punch ever since.  Incidentally, in those days the ship anchored well offshore and we were rowed to shore and back in longboats the design of which dated from the 18th century - cargo was unloaded the same way. That was some time ago

  • Bviously,alcohol is not your best choice in recreatonal drugs! stick with reefer, buddy. it may be worse for your (body(heart and lungs, but much better for your social security... if you don't get busted...hah! so dont combine them.

  • Glad you are still sober.

  • It's nice to learn a little more about you. It's good to be able to talk about those times and to laugh about them now. I'm glad you can look on that period of your life with humor, and also use those past experiences to serve as a reminder of why you choose to remain sober in the present. I can only imagine the list that I would have if I ever did an entry detailing my past embarassments and f*** up's. It'd probably be longer than Kerouac's 'On The Road', which is a great book by the way.  But I'm still just in the beginning of my journey in sobriety, so I think I'll wait a little longer to write my list down. Thanks for a good laugh, and for the brief look into your life.

  • Hilarious and sobering post. I don't take notes of my own hangovers. They are best left forgotten.

  • If you haven't had some embarrassing experiences, you have probably been locked alone in a room all your life.  I can't say I was ever into drinking and drugs, but I have done some dumb things and have paid the price for them.

  • OH SHIT, nigga you is wald as fuck yo.  You my nigga for this post.  I mean shit, where do I begin?
    Like, LSD, when did they stop making it?  I think it was a few years back when kids became too pussy to handle how real shit can really get.  I never had a bad trip though, thank god...and I used to fuck with acid all the time.  That was always my favorite drug, even above weed.  I love how it just cuts right through the bullshit and makes you 4 years old again.

    And nigga, did you ever get arrested?

    For real, for all the dumb shit I done did in my life, I never been arrested.  And I drove drunk on ambien, did all kinds of ill shit, never arrested.

    So I started to think that maybe fate means for my destiny to be unhindered by jail time.  Maybe destiny got big things in store for me.  Maybe Imma have to take up the reigns on Xanka when you stop blogging.  Maybe Imma be the nigga to save Xanka from itself.  Maybe I'm the nigga gonna have to really blog about real shit and not just make pandering ass theologians cafe posts that just steal directly from google news.

    And to the niggaz that said your blogs was too long....FUCK CHALL. 



    Shit I wowled out a bit there but you got a nigga passionate about blogging again.



  • @jillcarmel - Jill, I like to brag: "I've quit cold turkey......many many many times."  These days, my trouble is trying to get my weight down. (including eating slices of cold turkey.) I've been promising to present a dance video almost ever since I got my hip replacement fixed in 2009 but have been "too fat to dance" I'll get down to below 160 and then I'll splurge, like eating a dozen oatmeal cookies in a row, like I did last night. Maybe I should just stop eating for a week.....cold turkey. LOL.

     @tychecat - Dick, I pretty much only drink rum these days, if I drink at all. I was looking over prices of whiskey and tequila the other day, just for fun. They're twice as expensive as rum! I don't even like the taste of beer anymore. As I read your comment, I could picture the boats heading back to the ship, filled with "drunken sailors". Wait a minut. I feel a song coming on.....

    @Mockdonimus_Tuntsweet - Mock, I've been arrested, and I've blogged about it HERE. MFN/ppf

  • @baldmike2004 - I wt. 160! so you're skinny. I'm 5'5"

    yes, eatting food and chewing sunflower seeds are my only vice now.

  • Just to let you know, your posts are set up to come to my e-mail as "Daily Digests", so I am reading them. I'm just not getting around to comment. I've had some issue regarding links on my site not connecting, so it took time to deal with that. Just by happenstance, I guess via the "compatability" icon, they got fixed. I know I already let a lot of time pass between my posts, but I'm thinking I may take more time off from Xanga. I won't shut down permanently, however. I'll try to keep up with the few subs who keep up with me when I can. BTW: I don't think you're too fat to dance. Just do it, anyway, for the fun of it. ~~Blessings 'n Cheers

  • @baldmike2004 - Nigga you know Imma actually read what you wrote, not like these other leeches.
    We basically the same mahfucker.  You just the older, white me, and I'm the young, rowlin ass sexy smoove R&B version
    of you.

    On da rill.

  • I'm still wondering who the lone active Xangan is! 

    Congrats for staying clean and sober all of these years.  You look so healthy these days. 

    Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately), I can't relate to these stories of drunkenness and debauchery, but I still really enjoyed reading them as I pictured you as a younger man just living life on the edge!! 

    I apologize for not being around to comment much. 

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