I am in the food and beverage business, alcohol is a part of my living. As such, I do sample our new products, but never to the point of drunkenness.
I'm not a drinker ANYMORE, maybe a beer or an Absolut martini every now and then, but nothing compared to what I refer to as "The Disco Daze."
Once dad was in his last year, I had pretty much not having drunk anything alcoholic at all; and that final year was quite a roller-coaster ride, with dad's cancer & diabetes and mum's several knee surgeries. A running joke at work was that I was the one person people knew who they felt should drink. . .I maintained that I had to be on my guard and on my toes for the late night hospital runs, or the EMS visits or just to be there for both of my parents in a lucid state.
That said, my favorite drunken memory comes from my 23rd birthday . . .
There was a wonderful establishment on the outskirts of Pittsburgh, called The Tender Trap. It had been a jazz club in the 50s and 60s, but had by 1975 turned into an upstairs talk bar and downstairs disco bar. Finally it was one of the most comfortable gay bars to be in in Pittsburgh, thanks to its dual nature. It was never a meat rack, but a charming, dimly lit, almost night-club atmosphere on the top and a mirror-balled discoteque below. In short, if you were there to drink and chat, you were comfortable in the fact that no one was hitting on you - you could go downstairs, line up against the rail for that. . .and dance the night away.
I was a regular in the upstairs, and had dated (NOT a euphemism) the bartender David frequently. I rarely went into the place unless David was on duty.
For my 23rd birthday, David decided that, in addition to my usual black Russians, I would have 23 complimentary Blue Flames (Southern Comfort, Peppermint Schnapps served in a shot glass, lit, and consumed).
I remembered the countdown.
I remembered the beverages.
What I don't remember is how I came to be awake in my apartment in the nude.
There were no articles of clothing surrounding me, but, when I opened my apartment door I saw a trail of clothing leading half-way down the block from my front door! (the bar was indeed within walking distance from my apartment).
Hansel-like, I gathered up mybreadcrumbs clothing, shaking my head at the inconceivability of it all.
Going out with David the following night, I asked him about my departure. He said that I wasn't drunk - he would have shut me off I had been - and had gone downstairs for a dance, before coming up and bidding people goodbye.
I guess that the combination of the alcohol and the warm summer night did their thing while I was walking the few blocks home.
