Showing posts with label drunk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drunk. Show all posts

Saturday, January 05, 2013

New Year's Eve Wipeout - 1963

Me "celebrating" New Year's Eve January 1963 - Fifty years ago

This lingering cold of mine is just about gone.  Just a trace left.  I almost felt normal this morning when I woke up.  This past week has been one I will remember well, the New Year of 2013 that I was sick as a dog.

Which reminds me, fifty years ago, January 1963 I was also sick as a dog.  Regular readers of this blog will recognize the picture of me above with my drunken head in a turkey roasting pan surrounded by New Year's Eve party goers.

There is a Story behind this picture folks.  Here it is.  

Way back in the Nifty Fifties, when a young man like me was old enough to join the Army (at 18) but not old enough to vote or drink, I couldn't wait until I could get a good drunk on like all of my Army buddies.  They always seemed to have so much fun getting drunk.  

In November of 1962 I turned 21 years old.  I was of legal age to buy my own car, which I did.  Of course I totaled it one hour after I got it but that's another story for another blog posting.  Hey, a guy my age is full of stories, what can I tell you?

I was also of legal age to drink and I was determined to get "bombed" on New Year's Eve, just like my buddies. 

I was invited to a New Year's Eve party at Dave Fry's house in nearby Glen Burnie, Maryland.  Dave and I were stationed at Ft. George G. Meade, Maryland at that time.

I got in my clunker, and with my Army buddy friend Ron Hampton (yes, another "Ron") we headed off to Dave's house, in my '54 Plymouth sedan that couldn't go over 50 mph without getting the shakes.  My car frame was bent from my accident but I drove the car anyway.  Such was the folly of youth at that time.

When we got at Dave's all the gang was there.  Hey!  We were told to help ourselves to making drinks.  Since I wasn't a beer drinker, I made myself a screwdriver, which as you drinkers will know is vodka and orange juice.  I wasn't sure how much vodka to put in per orange juice. Ron told me 
"one shot per glass of orange juice."  Okay doakey, that's what I did......the first time.




The second time, since I wasn't feeling the "effects", I decided to put TWO shots of vodka per TALL glass of orange juice.  After the second gulping of vitamin C I still wasn't "feeling it."  Hey, where is this "BIG WHOOP!" that I'm supposed to get?  

Third drink....this time I put THREE SHOTS of vodka to one TALL glass of orange juice.  Guess what, we were running out of orange juice and I still wasn't feeling "IT."  

I guess you all know where this is going?  Yep!  Pretty soon I was WHOPPING it up with a TALL glass of vodka and ONE shot of orange juice.

Well folks, let me tell you.  After I don't know how many of those TALL glass of vodka with one shot of orange juice dispersing down through the clear vodka, which was entrancing sort of like a lava light in reverse, I DON'T REMEMBER A THING!

Seriously folks, I remembered nothing until I woke up the next morning on the living room floor, covered in a blanket with my head in a roasting pan.  And my head!  OMG!  My mouth.  OMG!  I felt like a whole platoon of soldiers with muddy boots had marched on my tongue.  My head felt like an anvil was banging around in it like a bell clapper.



Slowly, as I came to I saw Dave's wife standing over me.  I asked "What happened?"  She said "You got drunk."  Hmmmm.  I don't remember having a good time.  In fact I didn't remember anything until now where I was in a GREAT DEAL OF HURT.    

She said I was trying to kick out the TV screen of their floor model Philco.  OMG! Old Timid Ron in a Drunken Rage?  How embarrassing!  

She said she would call my friend Ron at the base and he would pick me up.  I tried to stand up.  I couldn't.  Everything hurt including MY HEAD.  I was starving but I just couldn't imagine anything going down my throat.  Just the thought of eating made me gag.  

Oh dear Lord, is this what they mean by getting drunk and HAVING FUN?  This WASN'T FUN!  

Long story short, it took me about three days to recover.  And folks, never again did I get that drunk.  Oh sure, over the years I've had a buzz or two (or three) but never, NEVER that  blind ass drunk.  I learned my lesson.  

So this year, with this terrible cold that I brought into the new year, I was think I'll always remember this New Year.  Just like I'll always remember that New Year's Eve fifty years ago.  




Me back at the barracks at Ft. Meade 1963 - sober with a cig hanging out my mouth (yes, I smoked too)

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