Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Re-education of SaraDevil

I had forgotten why I do not drink Jack Daniels.

But it has been a while.

So I figured what the hell.

Besides, it was Wednesday night, which means it was time for the middle of the week drinking night with live music down at the Lonely Hearts Club. After several hours of teaching, two hours of working out, and cheese and crackers for dinner, I figured I was about do for some out of apartment time. I did the little bit of darning I had to do on my favorite pair of jeans, found a shirt that would be appropriate for a Wednesday night, and headed out the door.

The walk was nice but warming. By the time I got to the bar I realized I did not want my usual drink dejour, tequila, but something cold and soothing. I should have had the vodka and tonic. I almost always have the vodka and tonic if I want something cold. But Im feeling fun, and adventurous, and sitting and the bar thinking cold and said, Rum and coke.

Poor bartender looks at me and shakes his head and points to the bottle of rum. The almost empty bottle of rum; the bottle of rum that had less in it then an alcoholics dreams of the future, and I knew that the rum was out.

Well, fuck. I thought about it for a second. Tequila appeals to the Hispanic in my blood. And vodka appeals to the fiber of my being like an old friend, a bad leather couch, erotica, and handcuffs. There are definitely nights that I miss serving sneaky coffee drinks in Ye Old Gym Basement/Coffee Shop. But no, rather then listening to my brain (how often does this create problems for Sara) I went with my stupid sense of adventure and said Lets have a Jack and Coke, why not. Famous last words, my friends, famous last words.

The first one went down fine. Talked to the bartender and learned that after two years his military service is almost complete and so bought him a drink. Talked to the musician next to the bar who would hopefully start playing soon. Checked the time, only a quarter after ten, I was good. I drank my drink. I like to drink the first drink fast, why not. We talked and I watched as lips moved and found myself after some time alone and so read my book a bit, and contemplated the meaning of life the universe and everything, and ordered a refill while watching H. train the new girlie bartender. Life was good. Jack and Coke seemed like a fine thing.

I smoke a cigarette and the world suddenly changes. There is a subtle sense of shift in the air and I knew something had just happened, but Im not quite sure what. Irishman walks into the bar, someone I had not seen in a bit and we talk about Daegu, and the drought, and the beer, and the Guinness, and I watch his lips move while his face begins to stretch into a strange shapes, the angel behind the bar floats about with pints of Guinness and I realize my glass is empty and wonder how that happened. I pass more money to the bartender H. and try to refocus on the conversation but it has moved on. I yawn, a sudden creeping tired I had not expected, and then find myself turned half round by the plug of the guitar and the introduction by the singer.

I look at the clock thinking Ive stayed past my bedtime. Its barely two minutes after eleven and Im not sure what happened.

The medley is a lost art. Says the musician as he launches into a medley. I try to follow the changes in the music but the changes only further addle my addled brain, there is slow Lou Reed, and British punk, and Neil Young, and I realize that Ive gotten tired, tired, bone tired, weary and the music is metallic in my mouth and doesnt make me feel light and cheery.

I look at the glass looming on the table. I havent touched it.

I wonder how much Ive had and count the bills in my wallet. My drinks, the bartenders drink, I realize Ive only had three, and the third is sitting untouched. And I dont want anymore. I want to go home and go to bed. I want out. I leave before the second song has started, its ten minutes after eleven and Im home before the half hour has set. I crawl into bed, and try to sleep, but am jittery. Then crying. Why am I crying. I cant think of why, then Im asleep. Then Im awake, then Im walking through bizarre nightmare dreamscape and I see the cackling face of my hated mother melting as she berates me for being who I am. I wake in a cold sweat and see tornadoes and I realize Im still sleeping, and Im not.

My alarm goes off at six and my head pounds. Pounds.

How much did I have? I think to myself.

I check my wallet and realize it was only the three. On a tequila night I might have as many as five shots before heading home and wake up the next morning feeling refreshed.

This is just nutty. There are bags under my eyes and my brain feels stretched.

Id forgotten why I do not drink Jack Daniels.

I wont forget again.


Roger said...

When that happens take a shot first thing in the morning to help ya feel better ..Nothing like the hair of the dog that bit ya the night before to help ya out ;D

Anonymous said...

That's odd. JD is my preferred weapon and I can drink that stuff like it's going out of fashion.

Tequilla also does the trick (although a hangover is a given).

Have you had ADH here? It's like a hangover drink. Try to program yourself to get one of those down you before sleep. Usually does the job.

Sara said...

Roger: Um, no a chance. That stuff hurts. Maybe a shot of tequalia. I'll take a different dog everyday.

Ipso: I don't usually go in for the Korean Hangover stuff, as I don't usually get hungover. Unless I've been drinking something with Jack in it. I think I'm sensing a theme.


Last time I had Jack Daniels I woke up in lockdown with ink on my fingertips, GSR on my hands, and a bad hangover that cost me three grand to get rid of. It's strictly the amber libations for me. Wonderful post and good use of imagery without forcing it.

Saradevil said...

My hangover mostly just cost me about $3.50, dollar for coffee, chocolate, and the lovely Tylenol with something something added that a friend sent over that one time from that one place.

Saradevil said...

p.s. Glad to know I'm not the only one.

Anonymous said...


That's quality!! Love it !

When I returned home from my Visa run I bought back a litre bottle of JD. I drank the entire bottle during the course of a Saturday (and then went out in the evening).

Should I be concerned?

Saradevil said...

For your liver? Absolutely.

kodeureum said...

It's kind of mysterious being known as just 'the musician'. Here's the medley melange:

Wild Thing - Louie Louie - Goo Goo Muck - New Kind of Kick - Stepping Stone - I Wanna Be Your Dog - Just My Imagination - Wreck on the Highway - Helpless - Built for Comfort

No Lou Reed or British punk, actually. Perhaps my indeterminate accent fooled you. I did do the Motörhead version of Louie Louie but the next two songs were the Cramps, then the Monkees (or Hendrix), Iggy and the Stooges, the Stones, the Boss, yes indeedy Neil Young and finally Howlin' Wolf. You left before my two encores of Has Anybody Here Seen Hank (The Waterboys) and I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry.

See you next week perhaps.

Saradevil said...

Okay, you are right about the Wild Thing as for some reason I remember you starting with "Wild Side" which would have been how I got that one all confused.

However I still there was a lot of Brit punk with Iggy and the Stooges, and Stepping Stone.

It was a good medley by the way. I'm sorry that my brain was too much scrambled to stay longer. If you're playing next Wednesday I'll be there with my tequila, in much better condition to listen to ya play.

Anonymous said...


You really should give the JD another chance (whilst continuing with the tequila).

John C said...

Chocolate's not bad. You should also try crackers and honey. The simple sugar gets into the bloodstream quicker, helping the brain faster.

Anonymous said...

I see you've tweaked the site again. I like it (nice that you have a recent comments panel).

Saradevil said...

All the tweaking is just further evidence that I am not drinking nearly enough.

Anonymous said...

You need to hit the (double) JDs methinks.

kodeureum said...

Iggy and the Stooges may have gone over big in England but they hail from the Motor City, Detroit.

kodeureum said...

I'll be in Tsushima this Wednesday through Friday, but I'll be back for the open mic next week with perhaps a Folk Rock operetta. I hope the tequila allows you a better evening this time.

Saradevil said...

Okay, let's all agree to pretend that I did not make a gigantic ass out of myself with my sudden complete lack of musical insight.

You'll be missed this Wednesday. I'll hold down the bar for you.