Scarlett O'Harlot Returns

Hey y’all! Long time no see. That’s partially my fault. (Or, entirely.)

All the talk about hangover cures last week got me thinking about hangovers in general (ugh), and that reminded me of The Worst Hangover I Ever Had. I thought I would share, despite the fact that it's not that interesting.

I was eighteen at the time, which makes it somewhat surprising that I would have had such a terrible hangover, considering that at that age, I could usually drink until three in the morning and still be in class at eight. I also hadn’t started smoking yet, and I generally find that a night of binge drinking combined with smoking an entire pack of cigarettes leads to a worse hangover than the drinking alone.

Incidentally, I disagree entirely about cigarettes being a good cure for a hangover. Sure, I’ll probably have one when I wake up, but I don’t think smoking contributes to my actual recovery and may in fact hinder it. But, you know, potayto, potahto.

So, I was in Spain at the time, and because I was only eighteen years old and had spent my freshman year of college drinking Natty Light at fraternity parties and Parrot Bay in my dorm room, I was not exactly a seasoned drinker. I mean, I could drink a LOT of alcohol at one time, but I wasn’t really interested in drinking a VARIETY of alcohols. Beer, rum, and vodka were pretty much my staples. Regrettably, I had not yet become the wino that I am now, and I’m embarrassed to say that I never even tried any wine while I was there, except for some sangria at a party one night, and that doesn't really count, 'cause it was all fruity and shit. If I ever return to Spain, it will be a different story.

One night in Salamanca, I noticed that a friend was drinking gin and juice, something I’d never actually witnessed in person, but had heard about a LOT, and in various genres. Laid back, with my mind on my money and my money on my mind. I asked my friend if I could try a sip of her drink, which I seem to remember was in, like, a stadium-sized plastic cup.

And it was delicious!

I immediately ordered one of my own (por favor) and proceeded to drink my weight in that nefarious libation, which I thought tasted just a little bit like Pine-Sol, but in a good way. I have no idea what time I finally put down the stadium cup and went to bed, but given that I was in Spain, it could have been damn near sunrise. They keep it real over there.

The next day, I awoke with a headache so terrible that I literally could not get out of the bed until seven o’clock in the evening. When I did finally manage to crawl to the toilet, I decided that the bathroom rug, although not as comfortable as the bed, was currently closer in proximity and was therefore a suitable place to lie down. Also, it put me near the porcelain bus, which I desperately wanted to take for a drive. Unfortunately, I’ve never been good at force-puking, so I just had to ride it out.

To this day, I have never been able to drink gin. In fact, even the smell of it is a little nauseating. So much for rollin' down the street, smoking indo....

Anyone else have an aversion to a particular drink, based on a particularly bad hangover?