Last night was my first night out of dancing and drinking in over seven years.
Don’t know why I went seven years without a moment of reckless abandon with booze…
It’s like I had that fourth kid seven years ago, and figured a hangover would quite possibly kill me, leaving my children motherless.
So no more partying.
Until last night.
Yesterday my classmates and I wrote our last exam of the semester, and it was unanimously decided that a night of drunken debauchery was in order to wipe away the memory of the last three months of grueling classes, studying, and teachers with big, saluting nipples.
Here are a few things that are different now than when I used to go out in my 20s and 30s.
1. The alcohol.
I used to drink beer. Maybe vodka and 7UP.
Now they have these pretty pink drinks called Crantinis: vodka and cranberry juice.
Which is really handy, because while you’re slamming back that booze, you can also prevent urinary tract infections.
2. The shooters.
I remember shooters called Sex on the Beach and Blowjobs.
Now they have these yummy concoctions called Dirty Hookers.
As opposed to Squeaky Clean Hookers, I guess.
3. The footwear.
In my 20s and 30s, I didn’t worry about the height and width of my heels.
The higher, the better.
Now, although I did start off the night in a pair of rockin’ shoes…
…before leaving the house, I took them off and opted for a pair of “sensible” ones.
4. Hazardous Situations
The bar we went to last night had this very narrow stairwell which connected the downstairs to the upstairs.
Whereas it used to be that copious amounts of alcohol inhibited my need for safety, last night, while going up and down this staircase, I found myself shouting: “People, be careful! Watch your footing so you don’t fall and get hurt!”
I’m pretty sure when I was younger, alcohol consumption eradicated my sense of smell.
After a few drinks, I couldn’t even smell a bad fart.
Last night, while entering the narrow stairwell, I noticed a puddle in the corner, and proceeded to warn the other patrons, “Ewww! Don’t step in that! Can you smell that? That smells like urine! I’m pretty sure that’s urine!”
It used to be that I got a few looks here and there when I went out.
Last night, as I was getting ready, my husband looked at me and said, “You’re going to get hit on, you know.”
I replied, “Of course I’m going to get hit on. Please! I get hit on when I’m wearing sweatpants and Uggs. I’m going to get hit on at the bar.”
As it turns out, the only comment I got all night, was from a very drunk man who asked me, “Hey! Are you that hooker who works on the corner of Princess?” to which I replied, “…ummm…no…”
He took one more look at me, and said, “Well, you look a lot like her.”