I often think that there is much more to alcohol than the night you drink it – often during the hangover period do we reminisce the hilarity of your mates dubious ramblings or fabulous faux pas knocking into, stumbling over and fumbling with other beverage consuming participants which becomes an accolade by it’s own defying right.
The true beauty of alcohol comes with the company of those around you, its an enabler at the very least. Often I’ll hear people say “It’s a sign that you’ve had a good night” – which irritates the hell out of me – so it may comes as surprise to you that I think that the statement has a certain degree of truth.
Prior to coming to Worcester the weekend would consist of, going out Friday and spending all of Saturday (student nights here are mid-week) with the people from the night before – living the absolute dream. Getting a domino’s hangover, conversing, having gloried opinions of people and ideas and watching terrible television shows – Its an angelic feeling being hungover, and almost always undervalued!
The best part of the overture is spending it with people who make you do stupid things, laugh when they should help, abandon one another in the pub, manipulate into buying alcohol, tease about sexual escapades, fight, then presumably make-up and call ridiculous names to.
When my parents said “Hangovers get much worse with age” maybe there is less of an appreciation for the hungover feeling or maybe it is because they haven’t awoken to Charlie snoring in the corner, Angus mangled and face down in bed, Ramron romanticizing an open bottle of spirit, Dave with fists bloodied or Thon with his trouser by his ankles whispering “the Germans are a community of high repute: yours sincerely, Goldeen”. – That is what alcohol is really for.
I like to think of being hungover as a different kind of drunk – when your irritability conflicts with your desire for greasy food and calling people bastard-face seems like an appropriate term of endearment – post-drunk.