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Divine Lack of Intervention
Alcohol
Citation:   Jerdney. "Divine Lack of Intervention: An Experience with Alcohol (exp55731)". Erowid.org. Oct 19, 2006. erowid.org/exp/55731

 
DOSE:
  repeated oral Alcohol (liquid)
BODY WEIGHT: 146 lb
The heavy is drinker is an unusual thing. The ability to consume large amounts of alcohol with minimal side effects for one thing, and the general apathy for all things non-alcohol related, such as sobriety or responsibility, and especially finance. At first one might withhold from purchasing liquor on a Wednesday night, work the next day, cant budget beer into this week. But then comes the inevitable slip, 'oh its just one day, if I drink today I wont drink on Friday.'. 'Oh, it's just one more day, I can take the weekend off.'. 5 days later and the bottle is still filling itself, and it's a surly hungover Monday.

The only thought on the drinkers mind is how nice it would be to have another drink, to skip the hangover. Monday night comes and again the drink is present, without hesitation. Suddenly it’s been two weeks and the drinker is still at the table, never willing to give it up. 'It's all right, I have lots of money to throw around,' they say. 'It's just one beer, it's just three beer, holy crap I’m drunk lets get wasted, oh crap its 730 and I don't know how I got home, time for work, take a shot before I go,'. This is the exact routine I followed into my brief stint as an 'alcoholic', in which my 'disease' took the best of me.

I would like to state that I am an experienced veteran when it comes to drugs like pot, mushrooms, MDMA and alcohol. But even in my most extreme ecstasy binges, I have never felt so bad as my alcohol abuse.

It started as a regular Saturday, and I was in BC visiting a friend who we will know as R for a number of weeks. She was still in high school at the time, and I had already been graduated for a year. Seeing as she was in school all day, I was bored of pot because of its constant supply, and I had absolutely dick all to do, I started to drink during the day. I had already gained a rather large tolerance from my 2 month every-other-day binge, so a mickey a day(12 ounces) was only a moderate buzz.

So I had been drinking pretty much 12 ounces a day plus whatever beer I had been able to get my hands on for the past couple of weeks. It was the weekend so I figured I might as well go all out for a 'party' we were to attend. Saturday night came and I had already finished 3/4 of a 26 ouncer (I had previously drank the first quarter the night before), but I had started drinking around noon so I only had a moderate buzz. Being the genius that I am, I decided that rather than just getting 6 beer or a mickey, another 26 would be fun.

We proceeded to consume our consummate amount of 'panty-remover-in-a-bottle' in a park because the party had been cancelled. When I was about a third of the way through my bottle, we decided to go crash a bottle. At this point I had a moderate drunk going, and felt as though I could consume the rest of the bottle without question. Sure, I could have, under normal moderate circumstances, finished the bottle, but these were not 'normal' circumstances. We arrived at the party only to find a bunch of emotionally bitter annoying 16 year olds drinking beer and smoking their 'GRAM'(very small amount of pot, laughable from a potheads point of veiw). But being as loaded as I was, I decided to party anyways.

From here on my memory becomes rather foggy. By this time I had about half of the 26 left. If I had stopped here, I would have finished the night and awoken with a moderate hang over. But of course, being around other drunks, and being particularly drunk myself, I gave into the pressure to chug as much of the 26 as I could. Of course, I had been drinking heavily for the past 3 months of and on, so 8 shots went down easier than water. I gave the remaining four shots to my competition, and he, upon completion, purged his stomach of fluids on the wall, the carpet, and his cat. Apparently after my consumption, which had now reached 40 ounces of whiskey throughout the day, I gave away a quarter ounce of high quality marihuana(I mean HIGH!!) to an asshole, emo, skater kid, because I had threatened to fight him (I am not usually a violent person, unless I am shit faced).

By now everyone was annoyed with our presence, either because of my seasoned drinking skills, or perhaps because I had threatened to fight the owner of the house hold because his hair was blond. From third hand accounts(the two friends I was with), I walked to the door, took about 6 steps onto the lawn, and passed out. I remember none of the events past this point. Fortunately, for me the friends I was with would not leave me for the seagulls, they took it upon themselves to drag me up an incredibly steep hill, probably about 200 feet high and 400 hundred feet long. Long for a sober person, imagine the struggle two drunks would have carrying 145 pounds of dead weight up a hill at a 45 degree angle.

I awoke the next morning on a towel covered in my puke, and climbed into my friends bed. Several hours later, still drunk as all hell, I again awoke, this time to learn that I had relieved my bladder in my pants, and was completely unconscious the night before. I was faced with a 36 hour hangover, but no puking, to my surprise. I had obviously poisoned myself, but because of my tolerance, I was still functional. This was not to be the case next time.

Several months later, at R's graduation, again in BC, we were to attend an after party, a wet grad, so to speak. We awoke the Saturday morning after an incredibly divine mushroom trip to the shouts of R's mom. Time for grad. The only thought during her 5 hour excruciatingly long grad was whiskey.

Finally it came time for me to purchase the goods, so I, in good alcoholic fashion, decided to purchase a 26 of Jack Daniels and 12 Sleemans honey brown. I thought, 'I haven't had a good drunk in some months now, might as well go all out. Now, in the previous months, this amount would have seemed feasible, but seeing as I had been working heavily for the past two months at a physically demanding labour job, I hadn't been drinking.

So I started at about 2 PM, with just a few drinks, and felt the buzz come on rather quick. This is going to be a good night, I thought. We arrived at the party at around 7 o'clock, and the last memory I have of the night was at 9 o'clock, going to blades. I awoke at 4 in the morning in a tent, and the first thing I saw was the bottle, still half full. I had no idea how I'd arrived in the tent, I just knew that I had to go back to the party to finish my bottle. I would like to add at this point that I am from the northwest territories in Canada, known as a drinking hole. So my actions seemed perfectly rational because of past experience.

I arrived back at the party, and proceed to chug the remaining bottle. Anyone who has chugged 12 shots in a half hour span whilst still drunk as fuck, knows the impending consequence. I have about 10 minutes memory from this sequence. Apparently, from third hand accounts, I filled up my empty bottle with beer from a keg, only to become dissatisfied with the taste and pour it out immediately afterwards. The owner of the keg didn't like this, and he told me. Now the owner was probably 6'3(from what I hear), and I am a measly 5'7'' 145 pounds. When I am sober I can take on pretty much anyone because of my martial arts training and my natural reflexes, but because of my extreme drunkenness, one punch from this grizzly man put me out cold.

I have dream like sequences from the night, and as my memory served me, I remember screaming for hours because I had been left in a swampy area next to a fence in the middle of nowhere, and apparently some girls(who sympathized greatly for my efforts), took me back to my tent. I awoke the next morning covered in water, absolutely soaked and feeling as though I had fallen from the sky head first. My friend R's mom came to get us and we packed the tent up without commotion.

During the ride home I felt extremely drunk and sick, upon arriving home I stayed in the bathroom puking for 6 hours, nonstop. I would take a sip of water and then puke up more than I had drunk, including endless dry heaving. At some point I had to get on the bus for a 32 hour ride homE, and in waiting for the bus, I puked in the stations garbage can, in the parking lot, in front of the bus, and in the bathroom, all this taking place before the bus had even left. I continued to dry heave for the next 12 hours, until about 7 the next morning.

At this poiont I was extremely dehydrated and weak, but managed to keep down a Nestea for about an hour. Despite the extreme agony I suffered from the puking, my body felt otherwise fine. No headache, no cramps, no fever, just puking. Even though I was in such an extreme condition, I managed to meet and girl who we will call L. We instantly clicked, and spent the next 7 hours on the floor of the bus frolicking and making out. Of course, every hour or so I would have to get up, puke, brush my teeth, and drink some orange juice, but the experience was still memorable.

Finally at about 5 o'clock the next day, upon arriving in Edmonton to meet another friend, J, I was able to eat some food. This event marked the first time I had eaten anything since the night of the shrooming. About 3 days without any food, just mush and alcohol. My stomach was rather happy to have this food, and I was able to enjoy a beer with supper.

Despite the girl on the bus and the warm meal, this experience was the worst overdose of alcohol I have EVER had, period. During my constant vomiting I wished many times for my life to end, even a few times considering suicide. Luckily, there was no possible way I could kill myself in the state I was in. I was too sick to even move my head.

That experience was the last and final draw. I vowed to never again drink myself into oblivion, and to control my drinking. I thought that giving up drinking would be to admit defeat, and to this day I stand but eh same idea. I have learned the art of moderation, and it has treated me well.

Although when drunk, the thought of dying doesn't occur until the day after, which makes it so much more incredibly frightening.

Exp Year: 2006ExpID: 55731
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Oct 19, 2006Views: 13,021
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Alcohol (61) : Large Group (10+) (19), Hangover / Days After (46), Difficult Experiences (5)

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