Orange juice with vodka is Screw-Driver. Concentrated vodka is a shot. Beer contains the least percentage of alcohol and Breezer is more of a freezer drink. Is this glossary sufficient to testify that I did sip, or what is the right word, booze alcohol? Even though for just one night, I did it! Born and brought up in Pondicherry, it is a shame that it took me this long to try my first experiment with it. Alright, before you get all judgmental, let’s start the story from scratch.
All my life, I was never able to stand the stench of alcohol whenever I happened to pass by a wine shop. Just the smell did a lot of chemical reactions right at my nostrils, sending my brain multiple instructions to throw up. I wondered how was that people not only consumed alcohol but also craved for it, got addicted to something that was so foul smelling. The blinding “high” that it gives compensates for the stench, so I’ve heard. What was that high all about?
I’ve been curious about the feeling of getting drunk that I wanted to try it once, try just once but try enough to quench my questioning. Curiosity killed the cat. So does alcohol. If death is inevitable, I might as well see what the fuss is before I succumb. I decided that I should say my first wine-glasses cheers with my husband after I get married and this decision was made five years ago.
After marriage there were other kinds of experiments to try out that alcohol slipped out of my mind the way alcohol does to other things in the mind. Then there was the new-house-busy-busy, followed by pregnancy, childbirth, sleeplessness and so on that even if I remembered, it wasn’t the right time or the right place. Longer the wait, more the curiosity. Last week, I broached the subject to Vijay. Vijay was a social drinker before marriage and thanks to me that later on I forbade him from even that. Such a request coming from me, he grabbed this opportunity to conduct an elaborate theory and practical lesson on spirits.
The lesson began last Friday night, confident that there was a weekend ahead to heal hangovers if any. Bedroom nursed my little Akhil to sound sleep while the living room was set up to stage my adventure. It was during the preparation phase that Vijay lectured me the theory of screw-driver and shots which I’ve answered in brief right at the commencement of this post. We pushed aside the center table and sat on the carpet with newspapers covering the happening area. Two wine glasses, one bottle of vodka, one bottle of beer, lemon, salt, pickle and one carton of Tropicana Orange sat on top. Corner lamp was dimmed to create the right mood and ambiance for a different kind of seduction.
Vijay assured me that unlike brandy or whiskey, vodka was distilled thrice that it doesn’t smell at all. He mixed up the drinks and was ready for cheers. I stared at it for two seconds mulling over what I was about to do and before I could mull any longer, I was like on your mark, get set, GO…CHEERS. The drink drained through my throat creating a warm fuzzy feeling but otherwise, no high, no nothing. I gave a condescending look to Vijay as if this was all his fault when he offered me the second glass. Slowly, we emptied half a bottle of vodka together while I was still waiting for the high to hit me.
Once we were done, Vijay asked me to walk up and get him some water. I tried to stand up but my feet felt so heavy that I dropped down. I supported myself on the couch and started walking towards the kitchen but my limbs were directed towards the balcony. My mind was clear, I could feel that. I could hear every word of the soap running on the TV in the background and understood every word that Vijay said. Still, it seemed like my body possessed a different mind of its own and refused to listen to my instructions. There I fell down again. I thought that high would give an illusionary feeling of staying afloat. On the other hand, I felt as if gravity had gained extra potency and was pulling me down. It was like walking on a bouncer in kid’s amusement parks. It felt like moon-walking. There, I fell down for the third time and started giggling, knowing that I was giggling like a moron but not being able to stop it.
The experience was so funny that I simply kept strolling inside my house, afraid that the high would subside if I take a break and I’d miss the moments of kicks. Vijay took the camera out to shoot the wobbling me. I tried to stop him and fell down once again, laughing and making him laugh too. That was one romantic drunken night! I said and did so many crazy things. As the night progressed, I started feeling real heavy and was to some extent scared even. Adventure experiments are fine but not worth getting addicted for. I guess alcohol causes more harm by the way of people’s social reaction to the liquid than to the physical body itself. I enforced to Vijay and enforced myself that this would be our first and last booze session and before I said or did anything stupid like vowing or swearing, I crawled into my bed and crashed for a good night baby sleep.
The next morning, Vijay woke me up and asked me how many fingers was he holding up, just to check my sanity and the extent of hangover. Thankfully, there was none at all and I woke up as fresh as any other day except for that satisfactory mischievous grin on my face. I did it!