Out of Pod Experience

I went to a party with a Polish guy from work, noone else went though from the regular staff, it was his birthday party and a temp guy. I was the only guy at the party that spoke English, our other language was alcohol.

Never again.

The honor of Scotland rested upon my shoulders.

I was honor tanked.

When i lived in Alaska, briefly, i worked with a handful of eastern euros. They were from all kinds of ex soviet states and russia. We lived in tents. They would frequently get drunk with me and their english would get worse and worse, until they were pretty much just talking around the circle and at me in russian, even though i speak like 7 words of the language. Man they could put it down. Vodka, sometimes just straight shots... It was tough to keep up. Not to mention some loved playing chess, and they consistently whooped my a**.

We used to steal fire extinguishers from the hotels around the area, and all the large vehicles that each sport a fire extinguisher. Taking them, we would divide into teams and have fire extinguisher wars. I love eastern euros, they launch wholeheartedly into the most insane situations.

I am not a real man, i too feel too much of the burn of hard liquor to enjoy the taste like others claim to.

The 'getting hammered off it' works great however :D

That sounds more like a Tequila Experience(tm).


Edit:
One Tequila,
Two Tequila.
Three Tequila,
Floor.

And what brand would that be?

a couple decades ago I had a meaningful relationship with a half-gallon of Wild Turkey

spur of the moment camping trip. no beer. no water. no food. no tents or sleeping bags. just that friggin big ass bottle of W-T.


At first it was aweful .. then after a few shots it was quite horrible .. a few more and it was pretty much instant gag-reflex action..

Not sure how it tasted after that but I woke up about a 1/4 mile away from our camp site.. I woke up to the sound of the truck horns and followed them back to camp.

Never drank wild turkey ever again

Why?

Several years ago I sweared to myself I would never EVER drink Vodka again.

I am a scotch man, whisky, single malts, blendeds, you name it.

But Vodka I avoid like the plague.

Why?

The only time in my life I decided to drink real Russian vodka and eat pickles as we as a group decided to idle the time away on a weekend, I got so inebriated on the stuff all I remember is me waking up 2 days later, naked in my house, with my wallet emptied with my 2 cellphones stolen or lost , my car half parked in the street, and upon gaining full control of my faculties reading my bank statements , a strange trail of sleazy shady bars and even more obtuse encounters with people I ended up mingled with that sometimes come to me in flashbacks.

To this day I still dread Vodka, for it totally made me lose control of myself and I embraced the flesh pits of the darker side of my city with wild abandon and total disregard of my well being, enjoying forbidden fruits and exotic tastes in markets of sensations, fueled by the hungry maws of lecherous con men and perverted drug induced friendships, corrupted by the sweet caresses of tailor made chemicals created for the sole purpose of enhancing outer skin feelings of riotous hedonism.

Unparalleled vistas of human experiences opened to me during those days, that I still dread when they come to me in the middle of the night or during chance encounters with people, that by association, give me anxious feelings of false deja vu´s , transporting me to the bottom corner of a rundown locale, lit up only by a red painted light-bulb flooded with the smells of tobacco and liquor, sweat and despair, gorging myself on the misery of others for the sheer amusement of a tyrannical soul consuming demon from the nethermost reaches of the Abyss ... All of this accompanied by the monotonic drum of strange musics that once were folkloric and sometimes were electronic.

I ate the food of the downtrodden, given in gift to me as I crawled in dark alleys within strange houses that were home to figments of shadows, of people that were no more or never were at all, I ate their food, shared as they saw kindred in my darkness and drank their water and sweetened beverages, giving me brief respites that were soon torn asunder by new shots of chemicals and unknown pills, some of them coming from faded and torn dark brown small glass bottles with rusty caps that showed dents and smears of human residue.

My nostrils were accustomed to smells unknown before to me, in a never ending cycle of human excretions, some sweet and others sour, that drove me to the brink of madness , and then receded me to the edges of stupor.

I remember faces, faces that had no meaning, but offered comfort and sometimes violence, but ended giving both, my body was no more , but another patch in the unwoven and deformed tapestry that humanity had become in the place I was. For I was there and I was not.

The daze in my mind is like a perennial veil of shadows I cannot part, there to remain, mocking me at my own humanity as I dread barely looking behind it, in fear of finding me lost and still enjoying the fumes of the Black Lotus that corrodes my spirit.

Sometimes I feel my soul remained in that strange place, and I was never whole again, perhaps I had no soul to give and was left free, to keep roaming this path until my body caves in. So many questions I honestly don´t want answers for...

All of that because of vodka.

That´s why I drink scotch, and avoid drugs.

I respect Vodka, only liquor that makes me open up to the inner demons in me.

Yep ...