Days like these don't come often enough.

I was never quite the drinker, meaning I don't drink excessively, therefore I have never been drunk before. That was until Saturday night.

The plan wasn't for me to get drunk, that part was planned for my friends. The night started out slow, everything was pushed back because not all of us were punctual. After reaching our destinations, we sat down in a circle and started the drinking game. Not too long later, the bottle of Belvedere was gone, and so were the two bottles of mixer. And off we went to the club.

The day was to celebrate two of my friends' birthdays. So we bought a bottle of 1.5l cognac and entered the club. It was packed, it was loud, it was everything that was expected. We drank, we laughed, we danced and we enjoyed ourselves.

The experience was quite new for me.

After the sixth or seventh shot, I started to get high. The lights were really pretty. Everyone was smiling and laughing. I was pretty numb to everything. My head spun and I held back my vomit. Laughing was so easy, and I couldn't care less what other people thought of me when they saw me jumping to the music. Everything was good news to me. And when all was said and done, we went out to the pavement and rested. My ears were ringing and I was tired. I laid on the floor and went to sleep. But my friends didn't want me to, because it was dirty. I didn't feel dirty, I felt nothing. But I could still think, not well, but still enough to know not to run across the street because there was a queue there. I shouted at a cab for honking, and I was pulled up from my sleeping posture for more than five times. I felt so weak, I felt so useless. I felt like my dad. 

But that wasn't enough to get me sober, because the alcohol was still running my brain. My whole body was numb, that was why when my friend hit me, I just felt something grazed against my skin. The constant pole hugging and back slamming against the floor must have caused all the bruises on me that I found this afternoon. I have never been this drunk before, and I sort of enjoyed it. I felt like there was no worries in the world, and everything was funny. I felt that my life was in the best place it could ever get to, and I was never a let down to anyone. But when one of my friends, let's call her N, pulled me up from my sleep, I knew that what I had done was stupid. I saw this image in my mind, of my mom pulling my dad up from the living room floor because he was having another crazy drunk night. 

It was one hell of a night, but it's not something I'm proud of. Yes, the fun was real, but the consequence was real too. I don't want to be like my dad. I want to be the sober guy in the family that takes his responsibilities well when his dad gets way too drunk to do anything. The night was something I'm glad I did, because I can look back and do the 'I did that once, and I'm glad I did it.' speech.

Perhaps once every six months is a fair amount. Don't you think?