I got invited to a first birthday party last week. Usually my mind delves into the catalogue of readymade excuses to see if any fit; dog ate my homework, gastro/food poisoning, washing my hair, allergic to balloons/blue icing/children. This time I didn’t want or need an excuse, this was a grown-ups party, the one year anniversary of a business. This meant I had an excuse to iron a shirt, drink cocktails, eat my body weight in canapés and schmooze with business types. Parenting dictates that normal procedure is to put on whatever is closest to hand, drink strong coffees, eat Max’s leftovers and talk to Mums about our kids; so this would make for a nice change.
The party was in Sydney, now for a man that often struggles to motivate himself to jump on a tram and meet friends in a neighbouring suburb this was a big deal, huge even! But the lure of a grown up party was strong and I did it, I booked flights, babysitters, ironed a shirt and combed my hair. As is customary when things seem to be seamlessly in order everything went wrong. The party was from 6-9pm, my flight was booked for 3:50pm and I would arrive on time cool, calm and collected. I get a call at around 1pm from the babysitter letting me know that she won’t be able to make it, count to 10 Matthew, 1, 2, 3, faaaark!
I spend a small eternity on hold listening to annoying happy jingly music whilst waiting to speak to someone from the airlines customer service. I get through to someone, I remain calm, I tell myself I will go to the ball and I pay to reschedule for the next available flight at 5pm which would see my arrive fashionably late. I get to the airport, I check in, I drink a beer, I listen to a tannoy announcement saying that some poor bastards flight has been put back by two hours, I check my ticket and realise that I am that poor bastard. I order another beer and fight off the tears but inside I am sobbing my little heart out in an angry fashion. I would now be arriving at the party that ends at 9:00pm at 8:58pm and that is beyond fashionably late.
There is no going back now, flights and hotels are booked and I’m a little bit tipsy so my judgement is clouded, I’m still going, I drink another beer. The emotional rollercoaster that this day has become continues to unfold when another tannoy message announces that the earlier one was a bit premature and that the flight has now been brought forward by an hour to 6pm, emotionally I was a bit angry, a bit tired, a bit happy and a bit drunk; what I needed was a drink to calm my nerves.
I boarded the plane, as a long legged individual I had the benefit of extra legroom which was offset by the fact that I was the person who had to save everyone in the event of an emergency, I found it a struggle to fasten my seatbelt. I had another beer to stop myself from falling asleep. Touchdown, taxi, venue! I put on my game face, casually nodded at some of the other party goers as if we went back years and made my way to the bar, “the drinks are complimentary this evening sir”, this was already the best first birthday I had been to by quite some distance.
I woke up with the sort of hangover that makes you vow to never touch a drop of alcohol ever again. The one where your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and has the same texture of sand paper. The one where your breath smells like you were licking a pub floor at closing time. The one where the slightest movement makes you feel like your head could actually break into lots of little pieces. The one where you look in the mirror and you don’t want to acknowledge the reflection as your own. The one where you wonder whether all those jokes you thought were hilarious the night before were in fact worse than your usual ones.
I’ve tried lots of different hangover cures through the years from milk the night before to hair of the dog to greasy food; they all have their limitations. On Friday morning I found the best cure yet – waking up in a beautiful Hotel. A powerful shower to blast away the cobwebs, a fluffy robe that feels like a hug from Mum, a Do Not Disturb Sign that is lost on Max and best of all a buffet breakfast. You can always tell the people who don’t stay in a hotel much by the excitement they display when studying and planning their strategy to tackle the buffet. I don’t stay in hotels often and I was genuinely excited, I planned for a four course breakfast starting healthy and getting more greasy towards the end. I necked three revitalising juices and a cleansing juice and I felt strangely revitalised and cleansed. So my hangover cure is to recover in a Hotel, it’s not the most practical and it may be the only time I recover in such extravagant surroundings but it worked.
What is your go to hangover cure? When was the last time you vowed never to drink again?
I love this story! I can relate to much of what you were talking about. My hang over cure is a berocca berore going to bed and when you wake up, its amazing how much this works!
I was trying to work out what a “berocca berore” is, i thought it was something fancy and Italian and then I realised it was a typo. Thanks Jody, glad you liked it and I’ll be trying the berocca trick next time
Buffet!
It works doesnt it Kassey, another fan of the buffet?
I am the cheapest drunk, 3 drinks and I’m goooooone.
Vegemite on toast works for me, and a sugary drink. But a good spew never goes astray either.
Gross.
I’m about 2 drinks at the moment. I didn’t expect that from you Chantelle, the spew bit ; ) Vegemite on toast always works though does it not?
Bacon. Bacon restores everything. Let’s just say that the cold I travelled with got progressively worse over the weekend … and I thought having those cocktails with all the ginger in them would help.
Bacon and ginger, now there’s a concept! I can’t believe the ginger cocktails didn’t do the trick, I thought all that whisky would turn me into a yuong Don Draper and that didn’t happen either ; )
Sadly, I don’t have a cure. I just pray that hubby is capable of looking after our cherub and die a slow death in bed until about 2 p.m.
It’s no wonder I have barely drunk anything since our baby was born. One night of having to get up to him in the middle of the night, while still pissed was enough to convince me that drinking just isn’t worth the pain right now.
You raise a good point Jan, I’m not sure there is a big enough pay off to warrant the pain of the next day. This was a rare nigth without toddler so I capitalised on the moment, a little too keenly. Thanks for stopping by
Well, now I’m ashamed. I read the title and first line and thought “Oh, good, I’m not the only one who gets shit-faced at 1 year olds birthday parties.” *ahem* (I blame Emily from Have A Laugh On Me – it was her kid’s birthday!)
Um, hangover cure here = Maccas on the way home, massive glass of water w/ 2 pain-killers of choice, and plenty of berrocca on hand for the next morning!
x Aroha
This what you were after Aroha, we all do it – https://daddownunder.wordpress.com/2012/12/09/birthday-parties-cesspits-and-37-degrees/
ha ha! yes! I remember that post. phew, thanks for making me feel better.
Ha ha ha I was a little shady too… My trick? Drink loads of water when you get home. Eat something when you get home, including 2 panadines. Repeat in the morning as you swear never to drink again…
The only problem with that cure Andrea is that you have to actually take responsbility for yourself, I know the logic of drinking water the night before but I can rarely motivate myself to actually do it.
Your after party affects are so typical of an adult who never gets out ….. oh wait you just described how I get when I do get to go out … twice a year, if I’m lucky.
Best cure: Agree with Aroha, Maccas on the way home but you eat enough to fill the drunk hunger cravings not over eat.
I think there was a bit of that over excitement to be going to a real grown up party Camielle and throw in a traumatic plane trip and not much food and it was always going to happen. Lesson learnt!
I think my husband would have to agree with you on this, hotel’s are definitely the best hangover cures once there are kids on the scene! And I am a fiend for a buffet breakfast, I have been known to OD on juice and bacon, I just can’t get enough and always feel that for the rice I pay I am gonna get my money’s worth! 4 courses is just the beginning for me!
You pay in rice Kylez? How many kilos per night ; ) I might have snuck a croissant out too for afters
Bahahaha, many, many kilos Matt!
Berocca all the way!
Last time i vowed never to drink again was almost 4 years ago…and i never did.
Thats very impressive Annu, I’m edging ever closer myself. Hangovers are just not worth it