Replay (past): “Playing back the tape” never fails to set me straight.
Bachelorette parties. Man oh man. I’ve planned and/or attended many and it’s safe to say, there were no shortage of drunken shenanigans when it came to my participation. As my alcoholism progressed, so did my “hot mess” status at these shin-digs. In fact, I cannot believe I wasn’t at my own party almost 9 years ago. Wait, was I?
Okay, fine, I cannot remember every single detail. But I remember A LOT. Enough that I know I was never in a complete blackout….ehhhh, okay, I don’t remember much about the strippers and was completely oblivious to one of my bridesmaids going off on one of them. Nor do I recall passing out next to said bridesmaid at the end of the night. But I do have THE most flattering picture of above mentioned “slumber party.” So hot.
Annnyyyywayyyy, what I’m trying to say is that I was tame for my own bach. Tame compared to others. There are 2 in particular that I literally had to remove myself from because I was far too wasted and knew I had to get the fuck into bed before something bad happened. The last bach of my drinking days was the worst. So beyond…I can’t.
But I will.
In a list…of course:
- Arrived in Las Vegas already drunk.
- Spoke very obscenely in a room full of chicks that I did not know, except for 2 of them.
- Paid $20 for buffet meal that I couldn’t eat because I needed to puke but couldn’t (sick!)
- Somehow rallied and made it to the male entertainment club where I made a big stink about no one paying for the bride to get in. I paid for her and proceeded to complain to one of her friends about it for a good 10 minutes.
- Spent too much money at such an establishment.
- Lost my purse at MY final stop for the night. Couldn’t find it anywhere and when I did, it was literally in plain sight. That’s when I decided it was time to go.
- I mouthed off to the my cab driver.
- Got lost trying to find our room and proceeded to sit in the floor lobby area calling people and crying.
- Somehow reconnected with friends and we went to get food.
- Couldn’t sleep so I left for the airport thinking I could get on an earlier flight.
- I could not and found myself at the bar with a bunch of strangers, making “friends,” and crying again.
- Called my parents balling and confessing that I had broken my “personal detox.” (That’s right, I was meant to be sober at this party…what a joke.)
- Finally arrived home only to drive my car a far distance to my house. Drunk.
You guys, how was I not raped, murdered or arrested for DUI or vehicular manslaughter? 1 out of the 4 of those things just mentioned had already happened during my “drinking career” and the rest are my “yets.” That’s where drinking had taken me. I repeat: incomprehensible demoralization.
Welllllllllll…..it happened again. This past weekend was C2’s bach and I had to call it a night before everyone else. I had a burning pain sensation just under my rib cage that had started as we left the hotel room for dinner and a show. It kept coming and going, increasing with intensity.* I was not myself and you could tell but I wasn’t going to let it stop me from seeing some comedy with everyone else and of course, I did not want to disappoint the bride. I was miserable and went right to bed after. It was then that I realized: wow, I left a bach AGAIN but this time I’m not hammered but rather in physical agony.
Oh the irony.
It’s like a replay of those past bach events, played by the same actor under a different director. And for what purpose? To remember what it was like and be grateful I never have to live like that again if I don’t want to.
Recovery. What a gift.