Beer

BEER
“It’s all fun and games until somebody drinks 73 beers.” – Hopscotch
(Dress Battle)

This was one of the most intense drinking experiences of my life. I drank 73 nine-ounce cups of beer in 2 hours and 13 minutes. That is equivalent to 56 cans of beer. That’s an average of around 25 beers an hour. This is one of the more ridiculous drinking games you’ll find at a frat house. 2 people sit on opposite sides of a table. Each person has a counter and a pourer. You line up 9oz. cups filled to the top with beer in front of each person. Some one says, “go” and it begins. It is a race. The first person to be ahead by 6 full cups wins. So there is no finish line. It goes on as long as it has to. At first you chug 6 beers, but then you see that your opponent has also chugged about 6 and you think, what the fuck was the point of that. It’s all strategy and heart.
Anyway, had to put on extra layers of clothing after the first 20 minutes because my body temperature was dropping because of the beer intake. I began to shake involuntarily. I vomited literally over 35 times. No half ass spitting. My pourer made sure that my mouth was empty before I vomited, as to confirm that I wasn’t cheating. After about the 30th beer, I was vomiting after almost every cup. I had never experienced such pain in my throat. It felt like metal scraps ripping up my insides. I was weeping, on my hands and knees, holding on to the table with one hand and my cup with the other. I think the only reason I was able to continue is because I was already so drunk.
I pulled most of the muscles in my stomach and chest as a result of the severe vomiting. Was unable to take a shit for a week, I think due to the fact that there were no fluids left in my body. It hurt too even try to go to the bathroom. In the end I was throwing up hard brown chunks, which I only hoped were not actual parts of my stomach. Passed out at the end in my own urine and vomit for about 16 hours. Probably should have died. My friends, who it was often left up to, decided not to bring me to the hospital. Hey, I was fine in the end, so I guess it wasn’t the worst decision. However, that’s a bit one sided. Meaning that if I had died, I wouldn’t be here to bitch that they hadn’t taken me to the hospital. Every time they don’t take me and I live, it automatically seems like the right decision. You see how that’s just stupid thinking, yes? Be wary of one-sided arguments in general.
Point is, I won. 73 to 67! It’s called a dress battle because the loser of this race has to wear a dress at all times, until he wins a dress battle against someone else. The hippy, Sunshine, who had challenged me to the dress battle, had dropped out of school. So he just had to wear a dress, standing at the main intersection of campus for a few hours. This was outside the campus bookstore. Because he didn’t have to go to class, Sunshine was also forced to wear a poster board sign around his neck that read, “I STEAL BOOKS.” This was almost funny enough to make the drinking worth it. And yes, we did steal the idea of the sign from Larry David’s, Curb Your Enthusiasm.
It’s hard to explain, but in the midst of that race I don’t think I really cared about dying. It had previously crossed my mind that this game could be exceptionally dangerous due to the combination of there being no real finish line and my general determination in drinking games. I didn’t want to play before we started. That was peer pressure for the most part. I also wanted to put my challenger in his place. Although, that might fall under “peer pressure” as well. I didn’t want to play because I knew that I wouldn’t give up and I didn’t know what not giving up might entail. Once I started I only cared about winning, no matter what the cost. And I knew that would be the case. Like so many others who do ridiculously stupid things, I have no solid explanation for the logic behind my actions. All I have are a few photos of the event and my counter’s sheet on my wall that reads my cups one at a time and says winner at the top.
I waited a week to try alcohol again. I slowly sipped a Jack on the rocks. I gradually got back to enjoying it. But I know for a fact that the Dress Battle put an end to a certain stage of my drinking career. I never go as hard or as often as I did before that day. And I’m pretty sure it cut at least a few months off my life.