Good lord it is a hot son of a bitch in this
swamp city we call D.C. Seriously, could it 1) rain any more, and 2) be any more humid?
This weekend, the craziest of all Canadian (ex) bloggers descended on this city for some drunken debauchery. (Note to self: I am not 21 anymore.) It is only when friends come to town that we get to be tourists. Unlike other visitors, her kind of tourism was right up my alley. See the monuments from air conditioned Speedracer, eat crabs in Annapolis, drink, then venture out to Tyson’s to do some credit card damage, ultimately eating at Maggiano’s. Okay, I bought more underwear. It’s a totally different selection at the famed Tyson’s Victoria’s Secret, infamous for their racy mannequin poses in the windows last fall. Meow.
Friday night we met up with I66, KassyK, Virgile Kent and CircleV. (CircleV is a hottie in case you kids didn’t know.) I hear that VP of Dior was there, but when I read that, via email exchanged the next day with KassyK and I66, I was a bit surprised. I could not, for the life of me, recall this, but it rang a faint bell when mentioned. Sorry girl. I even think I may have spoken to you at some point. How did I get that drunk? Let’s see…
Yuengling at my house. Stella at Eye Bar. 2nd Stella at Eye Bar. Got it. Vodka shot. Okay. Still good. 3rd Stella. I’m still okay at this point. Then, another shot. And I have no clue what it was, and then more Stella got tossed in there, mix it up with my 4 crackers for dinner, bake it in an oven of about 100 degrees and 100% humidity and out comes a drunk Velvet. Drunk as in, don’t remember leaving Eye Bar, don’t remember how we got to Play, don’t remember being told we couldn’t get in somewhere, possibly Play, maybe not, don’t remember anything about 1223. That’s not like me.
The last time this happened to me, where I legitimately could not recall a whole block of time, I was in Paris. We apparently took a shuttle from the airplane into the terminal, and I had no recollection a few hours later. But that was because I was on some meds to knock me out for my flying anxiety made worse by September 11th. But Friday night? I really have no clue how any of that transpired. Four beers and a couple shots should not have done me in that way. But, no more shots for me. Lesson learned, over and over.
Ok, so back to Connecticut Avenue. What I do remember is busting through the crowd at Play to go to the bathroom, then coming out, not being able to find anyone, being completely drenched in sweat, and leaving. I sat in a planter outside Citibank, and then my phone rang. Luckily it was the Canadian (woo hoo!) and she came outside. Then I apparently sat on the sidewalk, rolled up my jeans, and we walked home from there. I only know this to be true because there are pictures on my camera. Many many pictures I don’t recall, and many texts on my phone, both sent and received, and I have no knowledge of any of them. I66 told me by email the next day that I offered him my couch so he didn’t have to go back on metro. Yep. I consulted my phone, and he was right. I could have conducted World War III via texting and I would have had NO IDEA.
Anyway, it’s become my personal mission to not drink as much as I do. I have realized that for some reason, what one person drinks is always of great interest to their comrades. Every “night of” I’ve witnessed is spent bringing shots to tables, strong arming friends into doing them, buying more drinks, saying “You’re slowing down!” Every “morning after” is spent recalling the number of drinks, shots, times, locations. Why is it such a competition? Those days are so over for me. And not because I’m a goodie-goodie. Believe me. I can lay down a bet that I’ve done more partying than most of you. It is a bet I would win, hands down. But those days are getting further and further behind me, and I like keeping them there. It’s good to get out now and again and tear it up, but not at the cost of not recalling a few hours worth of time. What if I lost my group? What if my friends weren’t around? What if I walked home alone – which I’ve been known to do. I’ll stop what if’ing now. I have to make better decisions. Not just with drinking. All around. It starts…now.