You know you are getting older when you party like a rock star on Friday and still feel it well into the next work week. Not too long ago one of my best friends, 24-year-old male, said to me: “I was going to go out tonight [Friday] but I have to work on Monday.” So true, my friend, so true.

I don’t know what happened to the days when I could party for a week straight in college and still wake up looking young and fresh. I’VE ONLY BEEN OUT OF COLLEGE 3 YEARS. For god’s sake, I didn’t know it would happen that fast. I’m 25-years-old. A baby in the eye’s of most seasoned alcoholics. Last year I even noticed I was starting to get wrinkles under my eyes. When did this catch up with me?

Being how I was a shit show post-college for about year from drinking every night, I guess I have matured a tid bit since. I no longer drink until my face falls off and wake up having no idea what I did the night before. Yes, my friends, I have matured… a little. But don’t be mislead, this of course doesn’t mean I don’t know how to drink any of your under the table, I just don’t feel so good about it the next day. I guess it is good that I have slowed down on the partying. It is about time for me to settle down with a stable job and maybe start dating? Who knows.

Enough reflecting… I went out on Friday. And the scraps, bruises, busted phone and sad liver are still haunting me this week.

I accidentally got shitfaced. My good friend and I decided it would be a nice evening to get a bottle of wine and watch a movie. At the store, we opted for the turbo large bottle of wine, thinking my roommate would be home to help us out with the load. Well she never showed up… so we drank the whole thing. Which was about a bottle each. We definitely were feeling tipsy and wanted to continue the drunk.

My friend and I decided to visit another friend at his bar downtown, but we couldn’t figure out the bus schedule on my phone so the next best thing was to walk to the nearest bar, which is a total dive. The bar was having a late happy hour. This is when things turned south. Bombay Saffire was on special for $4. I can’t turn that shit down, even though I have two full liter bottles at home.

I asked for a Saffire martini with olives. I should have known that it was a mistake when the bartender asked me – “do you put dry or sweet vermouth in the martini?” What the fuck?! Don’t you learn that on day one when you start bartending or when your dad teaches you about martinis at age 12? My goodness I’ve known that since I was a child! I finally get the martini, which was giant, and take a sip. It was sweet tasting. A gin martini should never be sweet. She asked me if it tasted all right, I said it was weird, she said she put triple sec in it. Apparently she thought since cosmo’s and other “girly” martinis get triple sec, then so should the ever-classic gin martini! Who the fuck is this girl?

I must have been hammered because I didn’t make her re-make the martini, I just told her to add more gin and called it good. I drank the whole thing. I still shiver when thinking about it. Oh I forgot to mention that on the way to the bar I drank a beer. So here is the progression of alcohol – wine – beer – sweet gin martini… of which I followed up with another beer. This is when the night got interesting.

Reminder: we were at a dive bar. Halfway through my martini a woman comes up to my friend and I. A woman who was missing a few teeth, had dirty clothes, wild hair and smelled like the butt-end of the uptown 34th street stop on the N train in New York. First thing she said? “Would you two want to have a threesome?” I was with my guy friend, who happens to be interested in men, mind you. A little shocked, I simple replied, “No thank you, my husband and I aren’t interested.”

The proceeding conversation took place:

Drunk lady: “Oh how long have you been married?”

My friend: “Three years.”

Drunk lady: “Well I’m married too, so we can still have a threesome, right?”

Me: “Oh where is your husband?”

Drunk lady: “Jail.”

My friend: “Oh shit, why?”

Drunk lady: “Drugs.”

She proceeded to tell us all about how her husband beat her and was involved in drugs. Me, being semi-ignorant about drugs, was like, wow I don’t even know what being addicted to those types of drugs would do to you. The drugs topic got her off the threesome topic… thank goodness.

Random stranger enters the mix upon hearing the mention of opium, which apparently was this woman’s husband’s drug of choice, and decided to give me the run down of what opium does to the human body’s nervous system.

I just wanted to get back to my martini. And then it happened: drunk lady lunged at my friend in an attempt to kiss him. I believe I pulled her off/might have hit her and said. “PLEASE DO NOT TRY TO KISS MY HUSBAND.” I think she felt bad. We left shortly after.

On the walk home I managed to trip over my own feet, land sprawled out on the sidewalk and used my $300 phone as a cushion. I cracked my phone, bruised/bloodied up both knees and a few fingers. I’m still pissed about the phone. I knew I wasn’t responsible enough to own a stupid smart phone. Damnit.

Lesson learned. I cannot drink like a 21-year-old anymore. I spent all of Saturday thinking I was dying.

- Alexis Patron