Truer words were never spoken. As the sober guy, managing a group of 5 other, of what I can only describe as, jejune individuals, the entertainment was far supreme compared to any movie I had seen. That grown men would subject themselves to pole dancing with trees, getting arrested, doing push-ups on the street in front of random strangers, bar fights and the whole nine yards was as humorous as seeing a guy get his junk hit by a football or his kid. Only the repercussions to the sober guy and the drunken juveniles end up being as painful as said struck junk.
For generations now, alcohol has played quite an important role in shaping brilliant stories and even more entertaining movies such as The Hangover. Movies such as this particular one is something that continues to inspire people to commit mayhem in the name of having fun. It only gets better when they start associating themselves with the characters of the movies. Fist fights ensue about who gets to play the role of Zach Galifianakis. And how everything that happens in Key West must stay in Key West. Or was it Vegas. At this point in our drunken menagerie, location is of utmost irrelevance. Those series of events are about as interesting as any Uday Chopra movie.
To top it all, the plethora of options at one’s disposal named ever so elegantly such as Slippery Nipple, Jagerbombs and the potent 151 shots. Then there is beer, whiskey, gin, tequila, rum and the list goes on. Introduced to beer at the tender age of 18, King Fisher Beer was my poison of choice. Although, I never got to savor it as much as I would have liked. Once every 6 months was all the beer consumption I could partake in due to the fact that my uncle was my principal provider. Along came graduate school and with it the pressures of competing in a rat race of every semester. That, along with, fellow crony rats was when we coined the phrase “group binging” and the more potent spirits were introduced to my palate. Along with that came the dreaded hangover.
The hangover, the feeling of utter disdain and regret that pounds your head the morning (quite possibly afternoon) after, is one of the worst feelings a person can encounter. The feeling where Manmohan Singh whispering sounds like Mayawati yelling on a loudspeaker planted on your ear, gives about the most accurate description. One of the feelings that could potentially produce the most useless phrase ever created. I am never going to drink again. And then comes another semester and then another one, till you graduate. That phrase is probably repeated more often than the word Baby in any Justin Bieber track. I promise I did not hear every song and count it. I just google worthless information of the kind.
To be fair to people though, they have been inspired by stories of debauchery, bacchanalia and other such activities by the people they worship. In the Hindu religion, the Gods churned some awesome stuff from the ocean and got pretty wasted. Jesus Christ’s blood is supposed to be made of wine. I can only imagine what a fun loving person he might have been. At this point in my life, I probably have coffee running through my veins and he had wine running through his. Lay men that we are, we look to the heavens for inspiration. Every occasion deserves a toast, a cheers, a salud or just a plain clink of the glass. Be it happy, sad, friends, sport rivals. Alcohol is kind of a bond that brings people together. Kind of like religion. Only with less disastrous consequences.
Speaking of wine though, that might be a hobby I might take up after I am past the ripe old age of 30. Don’t get me wrong. I have tried wine. But the classification of wine, for me, varies from potent, not so potent and sparkling water. I couldn’t appreciate the nuances that apparently wine aficionados build a career on. Color depths, hues, smells of tiny amounts of exotic substances, color of grapes before it was stomped, humidity of sweat on foot of stomper of grapes. The nuances are hard to notice when you are buying $5 bottles for purposes of “I’m bored of beer today, let’s try some wine”. But hopefully, with great age comes a greater sense of maturity and appreciation of finer things in life.
Alcohol is not the worst thing in the world though. What is life worth living for, if not with some regrets? And whoever heard of a fantastic story that began with, “And I had a delicious salad”. Let the debauchery continue but sensibly so. Don’t drink till your liver is as dark, shriveled and defunct as Johnny Lever’s (the comedian, not the whiskey. Oh that’s Johnny Walker you say. Well screw you) stand-up comedy sketch. Bear in mind though. With the advent of technology, the drunken stupidity can now be viewed on a global scale. It’s not the worst thing in the world you know. Online fame can be a wonderful thing. Just ask Psy of Gangnam Style fame. The video below is for your viewing pleasure only.