7 Days Without Alcohol–Day 5

The smell of tequila across the table from me at the restaurant is still engraved into my olfactory memory this morning. Tequila was one of my first liquor loves.

Of course when I was under age and drinking whatever was free to me, I hadn’t the slightest clue of what I actually PREFERRED to drink. However, when I moved to NYC and started to call the shots–literally–tequila was my choice drink.

But just as the rumor has it…tequila can often times lead to trouble. And after finding myself neck deep in a puke-filled toilet’s worth of trouble over and over again with tequila…I finally stopped drinking the stuff.

But last night, it’s stench made me shiver. After all these consecutive days of not drinking…what would have been a more appropriate drink to break my cycle than that instigating drink of the devil; that paradoxical beverage of poison and paradise…?

I stopped myself and munched on my spring rolls. Deep fried anything should, in my opinion, replace alcohol in a diet. (Side note: Can you deep fry a jello shot?)

Yet again, last night, after my evening festivities (and yes, I have adopted a new definition for the word “festive” this week), I made the sober decision to take the train home. As I slipped on the concrete and literally ate sh*t as I tried to cross the road to enter the subway, I laughed at myself as I slid my metrocard through the turnstile. I knew that there was no way in Hell that guy behind me who witnessed the ridiculousness would believe that I was sober. I almost wanted to approach him…

“Hey, um, ha, I just wanted to tell you that when I fell out there before…you know…out there on the street in front of the taxi…um….it wasn’t because I was drunk…“

He would, invariably, interrupt me with laughter as I would force myself to continue with the unnecessary elaboration…

“...really…it was only because I just got these new boots and they have absolutely NO right being sold in NYC because you just can’t walk in them…not because they’re uncomfortable, but because they are slippery….no traction...”

He would walk away from me and I would sit on the train to Astoria, laughing at how pathetic I am.

I didn’t have that conversation, needless to say, but as I could still smell the tequila when the N train surfaced from the tunnels of Manhattan…I did…in fact…audibly laugh at how pathetic I am.

I really can’t wait to drink again.