I Got 99 Apples, But a Fruit Ain't One
"Let's get drunk this weekend!", exclaimed my Starbucks co-worker and partner-in-crime, Aimee, as we began to brainstorm what we were going to do for the next couple of days. Immediately, we agreed, and began drafting some plans that would help us reach such an, oh so lofty, goal. At that point, the both of us were only certain of two things; I was going to the local Six Flags theme park on Saturday, and then we were going to meet up and get drunk that night with a bunch of other random people. It was a foolproof plan.
So, to Six Flags I went. My friend, Patty, came on down from Watertown, NY (the desolate hick capital of New York State, and home to Ft. Drum), and accompanied me on my trip. 10 bucks bought the two of us admission to the theme park, a creaky, pothole-ridden ride on a cheese bus for two and a half hours, a couple of turkey sammitches, and a sweltering summer day rife with hours upon hours of waiting on lines that led us to a grand total of 5 minutes worth of nirvana on roller coaster rides. Somehow, though, we had fun. Tons of fun, actually. We pigged out on some food, and got to make fun of some people along the way. After about 12 hours, we got back into Syracuse, where we began to make plans for our wonderful night of drinking debauchery. Patty couldn't stay, however, so she drove off, but not before my beloved Sarah made it in from Rochester for the night. It was like she tagged in. And of course, it was perfect. If there's anyone you want to have on your side when you plan on getting absolutely sloshed, it's Sarah, whose Irish heritage serves her well on any alcoholic occasion. After a quick shower and change, the two of us headed to the bars to meet Aimee and Co., who had an hour and a half head start on us. But it was no matter. A couple of shots and a few Long Islands later, we caught up. Of course, our collective drunken bliss wasn't to be, because Aimee was somehow caught up in some drama between some other Starbucks peeps. So, Sarah and I went off, got ourselves some wonderful pitas (the ULTIMATE Syracuse after-bar munchie) and headed off to my place to continue our drinking festivities with some of my own wonderful stash. At some point, Aimee and Co. joined us momentarily before they sleepily hauled themselves home, but Sarah and I just kept going. Shot after shot of the powerful 99 Apples (99 Proof...yeouch) went down our gullets, until finally, we both felt nice and warm and light as a feather. Good stuff, indeed.
I don't remember much after that.
At least, until, I woke up the next morning with a hangover from hell. Now, see, it's very rare that I get hangovers. Especially hangovers like these. I spent all day stumbling around, and making myself barf in order to make myself feel better. Sarah, who at first, felt fine, joined in on the act, too, and before long, the two of us were walking around like zombies. I stayed in bed for most of the day, ignoring phone calls and praying that I would be able to sober up before school started the next day. My ultimate highlight: "blessing" this brand new sushi joint's bathroom (located a block away from the SU campus), after I tried to down some miso soup in the hope that I would be able to recover faster...
By the time 11 o'clock hit that night, the two of us were finally out of it. We watched some movies, had some snacks, and then headed to bed to rest up for the next morning. Sarah was driving to Boston for some job interviews while I was going to head to class. Soon after we woke up, we parted ways, and swore that we would never drink 99 Apples again...
...I swore off 99 Apples two years ago when I drank 9 double shots of the stuff, along with some other liquors, when SU's basketball team won the national championship. Pedro, SpEd, Zulay, Michelle, and I all got hangovers from hell the next morning, teaching us a valuable lesson about staying away from 99 Apples. A lesson, which I ignored, two years later. But this time, I mean it. No more 99 Apples. For good.
Now...anyone for some tequila? :-)
No apples or animals were harmed during the making of this blog post. Can't say the same about bathrooms...
So, to Six Flags I went. My friend, Patty, came on down from Watertown, NY (the desolate hick capital of New York State, and home to Ft. Drum), and accompanied me on my trip. 10 bucks bought the two of us admission to the theme park, a creaky, pothole-ridden ride on a cheese bus for two and a half hours, a couple of turkey sammitches, and a sweltering summer day rife with hours upon hours of waiting on lines that led us to a grand total of 5 minutes worth of nirvana on roller coaster rides. Somehow, though, we had fun. Tons of fun, actually. We pigged out on some food, and got to make fun of some people along the way. After about 12 hours, we got back into Syracuse, where we began to make plans for our wonderful night of drinking debauchery. Patty couldn't stay, however, so she drove off, but not before my beloved Sarah made it in from Rochester for the night. It was like she tagged in. And of course, it was perfect. If there's anyone you want to have on your side when you plan on getting absolutely sloshed, it's Sarah, whose Irish heritage serves her well on any alcoholic occasion. After a quick shower and change, the two of us headed to the bars to meet Aimee and Co., who had an hour and a half head start on us. But it was no matter. A couple of shots and a few Long Islands later, we caught up. Of course, our collective drunken bliss wasn't to be, because Aimee was somehow caught up in some drama between some other Starbucks peeps. So, Sarah and I went off, got ourselves some wonderful pitas (the ULTIMATE Syracuse after-bar munchie) and headed off to my place to continue our drinking festivities with some of my own wonderful stash. At some point, Aimee and Co. joined us momentarily before they sleepily hauled themselves home, but Sarah and I just kept going. Shot after shot of the powerful 99 Apples (99 Proof...yeouch) went down our gullets, until finally, we both felt nice and warm and light as a feather. Good stuff, indeed.
I don't remember much after that.
At least, until, I woke up the next morning with a hangover from hell. Now, see, it's very rare that I get hangovers. Especially hangovers like these. I spent all day stumbling around, and making myself barf in order to make myself feel better. Sarah, who at first, felt fine, joined in on the act, too, and before long, the two of us were walking around like zombies. I stayed in bed for most of the day, ignoring phone calls and praying that I would be able to sober up before school started the next day. My ultimate highlight: "blessing" this brand new sushi joint's bathroom (located a block away from the SU campus), after I tried to down some miso soup in the hope that I would be able to recover faster...
By the time 11 o'clock hit that night, the two of us were finally out of it. We watched some movies, had some snacks, and then headed to bed to rest up for the next morning. Sarah was driving to Boston for some job interviews while I was going to head to class. Soon after we woke up, we parted ways, and swore that we would never drink 99 Apples again...
...I swore off 99 Apples two years ago when I drank 9 double shots of the stuff, along with some other liquors, when SU's basketball team won the national championship. Pedro, SpEd, Zulay, Michelle, and I all got hangovers from hell the next morning, teaching us a valuable lesson about staying away from 99 Apples. A lesson, which I ignored, two years later. But this time, I mean it. No more 99 Apples. For good.
Now...anyone for some tequila? :-)
No apples or animals were harmed during the making of this blog post. Can't say the same about bathrooms...
posted by djkibblesnbits at 8:20 AM
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3 Comments:
Mmm...Long Islands, they're my drink of choice. Sounds like you had a fun weekend.
You got into Six Flags for only $10? We're getting ripped off here in Houston.
Well, the 10 dollars thing only happened because SU has this ill hookup with Six Flags over here. Still, normally, ticket prices are 25 bucks, which, to my understanding, is still cheaper than it is out in Houston. At the Six Flags in NJ, however, the ticket price is $45...
I feel hurt and rejected, not because of what you did but because of what I didn't do. Wasted so many chances.Not living full on in the present moment with the present guy because I was thinking of you and thinking somehow some day soon we will be reunited. I was under the impression that you would always be honest with me but I was wrong. I was betrayed by my own ideal of you. Ray this awesome, fun, smart, beautiful creature... You still are all that... Not to me, not now after this... You and I are very much alike. Now I know how they all must've felt after I leave and move on to my next fun and exciting adventure. Hurt and betrayed by my own expectations. I never imagined I could hurt anyone by having my fun. I guess I did. Now I'm sorry. Don't hate the playah just hate the game. Moral of the story: "We are all pirates and we should grab the bootie when it's by the grabs!"
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