I Got Drunk in Portland.

I was reading another person’s blog, an entry about drunken debauchery and forgiveness. It was quite amusing and, more importantly, thought provoking. It got me thinking about my days of heavy drinking. I am a big pussy now, even though I pretend I’m not. I’ve got a bum liver and… well, I genuinely don’t usually feel like drinking anymore. But man, oh man, there have been some good times.

Jack Daniel’s Old No.7, with a PBR chaser. That was the good stuff– that was my religion. When I was living in Portland, I was a very talented binge-drinker. I could finish off most of a fifth (that’s 750 ml of good whiskey, for you metric folks out there) and probably anywhere from 6-10 Pabst tallboys in any given night. I really really REALLY loved doing this. I did it 4-6 nights per week for the better part of three years. Something about that city just made me lose my damn mind.

I destroyed my acoustic guitar one night, after coming home from a bar with a bunch of friends and strangers. We engaged in a 3am jam, and I guess at one point I was using the back of my guitar to play percussion. Haha, I woke up and the thing was WRECKED. Luckily it was a cheap guitar, and it was a really good totally-worth-it night.

At some point I developed a habit of taking off my shoes, mid-bender, and never finding them again. During my time in Portland, I went through four pairs of sneakers that way. Each time, I’d wake up with some glass or wood stuck deep inside my foot/feet. I never minded too much.

I think the worst thing I ever did during a blackout was the bathroom tornado incident. I was having a bad, very bad day. It was rare that I drank away my sorrows, but this was one of those times. I vaguely remember getting into the bath tub with clothes on. So far, so good. When I woke up, the pipe that connected the shower-head to the rest of the claw-foot tub… it was cracked in half. The shower was just dangling there, unattached to anything. There were clothes in the sink and toilet and bath tub, most of it fully saturated in vomit and piss. The porcelain toilet seat was cracked in half as well, and lying in the sink. Yes yes.

I don’t remember being awake through the whole thing and trying to convince my friends to drive me to the beach. And I don’t remember getting naked at the downstairs-weed-dealer’s apartment. But apparently, all of these things happened. I ended up paying a couple hundred bucks to have the shower/toilet fixed. But I didn’t even have a hangover the next day. Of course, I woke up still drunk, but no hangover to be found after that.

All in all, Portland is a good town for the drunks. Lots of nice dive bars and small music venues (because getting drunk while dancing to good music is kinda what alcohol is all about, no?), the liquor is reasonably cheap, they sell wine everywhere. And lord, there are hundreds of microbreweries that make some of the best beers in the country, if not the whole world. Not to mention that it’s fucking rainy there for 8 months a year so it’s best to stay dry and indoors! So what else to do but get drunk as shit many times per week??

I look back fondly at this time in my life. I was a bit younger. Had no reason to abstain from debauchery. I made great friends when I was drunk, and I got closer with the friends I already had. I was generally a happy-go-happy drunk, and did my best not to hurt anyone’s feelings. Sure, some embarrassing things happened to me, but I don’t mind really.

I’m rapidly approaching age thirty, and I’ve “cleaned up my act” quite a bit recently. But I look back fondly and have no regrets whatsoever.

Do you? Have regrets, I mean? What are your best drunken blackout memories? Also, have you ever been to (or lived in) a place where the environment alone has provoked you to drink a lot more, or just “act the fool” in general? I’d love to hear some feedback on this stuff!

(All photos taken from www.drunkpeople.org without permission. But this is fair use. Because I’m telling you their site is rad and you should go check it out!!)

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About R. Spacely

Bastard.
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4 Responses to I Got Drunk in Portland.

  1. vodkabeforenoon says:

    I refuse to believe I ever blacked out from drinking too much. Instead I like to call those moments a period of self reflection.

    These are not my best, just things I remember.

    I can tell you what is a good cell phone brand due to how many times it got submerged in water without breaking. Sam-sung is a very good brand. I wet my phone almost every other day for a whole month and it still worked a year later. Of course most of the buttons didn’t work but I could dial 9-1-1 and that is what matters most.

    The neighbors with dogs do not like me. I have been told that on more then one occasion I hang myself off the balcony to vomit on the toy dogs walking on the side walk.

    I am honest and tend to tell people exactly what I think of them. There was time this lady brought her three year old to a booze bash. It was three in the morning and I was cranky that any ‘MOTHER’ would think that was appropriate place to take her child. If I was sober I wouldn’t had said anything. But being blasted I called her trash and told the bitch the get the fuck out before I call child services.

    I think the only regrets I have are when I drunk is not being physically strong enough to beat the crap out of the guys who get fresh with me. I am planning on carrying a tazer the next time I get smashed with the guys.

    • You remind me of my friend, Fiona! This was a good read. I laughed because I’ve thrown up on dogs before too. I don’t know why, but little dogs are just drunk-people-vomit magnets!

      Thank you for sharing your thoughts. Feel free to post more in the future, if you ever think of any more… or as you acquire new tales of drunken debauchery.

  2. Pingback: Tweets that mention I Got Drunk in Portland. « The Stir-Fried Dinosaur -- Topsy.com

  3. Pingback: “Everything happens for a reason.” | The Stir-Fried Dinosaur

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