I was asked to write this at the last minute, so rather than write a well thought-out, actually meaningful or at least coherent article, I am going to take you through my day: my day with a hangover.
I have romantic ideas about hangovers. I somehow seem to have educated myself on Hemmingway, O'Neil, Fitzgerald and all those other writers who talk about alcohol a lot in their books in romantic ways. You know, like whoever wrote "Weekend at Bernie's" (1 and 2). Yes, okay, that was about a dead guy but whoever wrote either of those movies was definitely drunk at the time. So I tend to think of inebriation and hangovers as muses.
I think, yes, I will drink this second Long Island ice tea and tomorrow I will write the next great American novel. But every time I wake up on a Thursday or a Saturday, Sunday, the occasional Tuesday, oh and Wednesday if I am having a particularly "creative" week, I find myself not so much bursting with the spirit of a great novelist knocking at my fingertips, but instead filled with the desire to suck all the moisture out of the nearest damp object and the need to find a way to somehow lie down more.
In a nut shell, I am ready and willing to do anything as long as it doesn't involve moving, standing, talking, listening, thinking, breathing, etc.
So when I wake up on those days, I wake up feeling like death with the added bonus of realizing I will not be creating a work of literary genius that day. I'm going somewhere with this, don't worry.
Here's what I'm saying: I don't like the way Dartmouth treats me when I have a hangover. Now is when I walk you through my day and tell you what I don't like.
Don't stop reading. Seriously, it's not cool. No, stop looking at that person across the room -- they are way out of your field and do not remember the conversation you had last Friday, no matter how funny you thought you were being. They will never love you, but I'm here.
Anyway, number one: if I am hungover in class don't judge me. You know who you are. I need to be comfortable, and since the fetal position is not an acceptable position for class participation, I will fidget. A lot. And yes, it will probably involve rotating between slouching, sitting up annoyingly straight, and curling up in the chair as if it were one of those comfy butterfly chairs. Any and all of these might involve me taking off my shoes. The bottoms of my feel will be black due to basement floors and the fact that I woke up five minutes before class and was not courteous enough to shower.
Deal with it, because the alternative of me fidgeting is probably me making you even more uncomfortable, possibly by vomiting. Just pay attention to the lecture and let me do my thing.
This brings me to lunch. Hey, kid blocking the Diet Coke? Leave.
I have been fantasizing about a big gulp of that soda since I woke up with a desert in my mouth. And guy who looked at me weird when I got a thing of ketchup for the piece of bread I was about to enjoy? Stop looking at me like that.
Ketchup sandwiches are delicious and are the only way I avoid grossly stuffing greasy stuff in my mouth just to get the ketchup fix I need. So unless you want to go get me some soft tacos from Taco Bell (the only things I crave more than ketchup when hungover) then look away and get back to your stir fry.
And yeah, I'm dehydrated so I have shaky hands. Food may fall out of my grasp or off my fork. Deal with that, I do.
I guess all I'm asking for is a little understanding. Hangovers happen to a good many of us, so hang out with it. Give me a hug or -- no, I take that back, never ever touch me when I'm in that condition.
Give me space and pretend you can't see me, unless you are bringing me a taco or a bigger Diet Coke or an air mattress and a really bad action movie on DVD.
Now that I look at this article, I notice I did not actually take you through my day. But I'm not going to go back and redo anything.
Again, deal with it.
And oh, you see that person to your left? No, not the one with the backpack or the one with the red hair, but the other one? They have been totally checking you out this whole time. Don't look. Just, laugh quietly to yourself. Not in the crazy way. Just softly so that they think you're endearing and adorable.
Good. You're in. You can talk about this article with them.
I'll give you a topic: broccoli is a created vegetable; it's a hybrid of cauliflowers and brussel sprouts. Go.
