A guy walks into a bar…

Those of you reading this blog over the last several months are probably familiar with the tales of my recent adventures in going out for some drinks with friends. Each time, when the occassion suits, I attempt to test my limits to get an understanding of what I can handle and what I cannot.

Tonight, those limits were finally reached.

We all planned to celebrate our moving victory tonight, and so around 6 PM, Jen, Jason and I headed to Mustang on the corner of 85th and 2nd Avenue. We sat at the bar, and Jason and started off with house Margaritas, followed by a shot of tequila from their tequila bar. (Incidentally, credit goes to strausmouse for telling me about Mustang in the first place.)

About an hour later, Jenn, Tommy and Dean arrived, and we got a table and ordered dinner. (I had an excellent Mustang burger.) Along with dinner, I had 2 more large Margaritas as well as another shot of tequlia. It was a fun, animated dinner with everyone talking and eating and drinking, and we certainly did not want the night to end when the food did. So at about 9 PM, we moved ourselves directly across the street to Molly’s, where we got a table for six and sat down for more fun; it was also convenient because Tommy and I could watch the rain-delayed Yankees/Mets game.

The drinks continued to flow at Molly’s. First there were beers, of which I must have had about three. Interspersed with the beer was at least one more shot of tequila. And then the bar also bought us a few rounds of shots: Southern Comfort and lime. All told, I had 3 margaritas, 5 shots of various things, and 3 or 4 beers. Quantity-wise, it was not as much as I had in Cooperstown, but it was in a somewhat shorter period of time.

We finally left the bar sometime between 1 and 2 AM, after the Yanks had roundly defeated the Mets 16-6. Jenn, Tommy, and Dean headed back home, and Jen, Jason and I headed back up the street, trudged up the 61 steps to their apartment and collapsed onto some chairs amidst the clutter of boxes.

This is where it gets interesting.

I distinctly remember sitting in a chair, leaning forward, thinking about how Jen kept saying that I was going to get sick if I kept doing all those shots. But I drank so much water that I figured I nullified the bad effects. (By the end of the evening, it seemed that every glass of water at the table had ended up in front of me.) We were sitting around, deciding on whether or not to go to sleep, when, without warning, nausia, or any bad feelings, I leaned forward and threw up on Jen and Jason’s hardwood floors. It never occured to me to get up because I hadn’t felt in the least bit sick. After a moment of what I think was shock, Jen or Jason kicked an empty box in front of me and I made use of the box instead of the floor.

That was it for me. I got sick, I threw up, and I was done. I got on the phone and called Doug, who Jen and I had been texting all evening, to tell him the news. He had me on speaker phone and he thought it was all very funny. Then, while I was on the phone with him, and Jason was cleaning up the floor, I looked up to see Jason throwing up into the trash bag he was holding. It was a sympathy vomit, I think. Like something out of Stand By Me.

Jen, somehow, managed to avoid getting sick at all. After we cleaned everything up, we all went to sleep. But I learned a lot, and I had a good time too, and no real harm was done.