"Drink scotch whisky, all night long..."

At least that's what Steely Dan suggested in 'Deacon Blues'

Me? Not so much.

Last Friday I posted about the Cash Bash that I (along my the wife, my brother and his girlfriend) was going to attend last Saturday night… and some of you wanted to know how it went.

Well, it took me this long to remember it.

I’m exaggerating of course, but that has been what it’s felt like all week. Walking around in a stupor… (now I know how “President” Bush always feels…[rimshot]) trying to shake off the effects alcohol has on the (older) human body. (I am not an alcoholic… nor do I play one on TV. I drink in moderation. But when one has a chance to drink with a named designated driver and not without the responsibility of kids… one takes advantage… who of us here reading this post haven’t???)

After last week I have come to a horrifying conclusion… I. Am. Old.

It’s not something that homo-sapiens like to admit, but I feel the time has come for me to admit it.

I am 32 years old (33 in July) and can no longer consume the mass quantities of alcohol I was able to in college… hell, that I was able to 5 years ago.

I tried last Saturday night but with decidedly different results from 10 years ago (that’s something else I’m becoming to sense I am going to be having trouble coming to grips with… 10 years ago this summer I graduated from college… 10 years ago… 10 long… years… hijo de puta)

I started off with 1 beer when we got there. Meh. It didn’t taste good which means my body was telling me I wasn’t in the mood for beer. So I switched to Scotch and water… quite a few Scotch and waters. How many? I’m not sure; I lost count while I was playing Blackjack (and doing well; at one point I was even up 5 dollars… but then lost it on booze and women)

After Blackjack, and while we were holding the bar up and smoking some (very good) cigars, my brother and I turned to Crown Royals and water. (Interesting sidebar; at first it was hard to get the bartenders attention, but after we twice gave him a tip of $5, he was our bitch and then supplied us with very-generous amounts of CR in our glasses. At one point, he glanced at the President of the College and bypassed his drink order he could get us more… I told my wife to expect a call from him in the next few days…)

Back to the post at hand; age. I am old.

I can no longer drink a lot of alcohol and not feel the effects.

I can no longer eat mass amounts of food and no longer feel the effects.

I can no longer smoke more than 1 cigar a night without feeling the effects.

I. Am. Old. (To that I say to father time: ¡Chupapollas!)

I didn’t get sick that night (I never get physically ill after drinking) and didn’t have a hangover (remedy: drink, at the minimum, 6 pints of water) the next day… but I just felt… blah… incredibly blah… like I had been run over with a truck (which backed up a few times and ran me over again and again) forced to scale Mts. Fuji & Kilimanjaro and then forced to watch 24 straight hours of ‘Saved by the Bell: The College Years’

Don’t get me wrong, I did thoroughly enjoy myself (we all did), met our new neighbors (who are young… very, very young) talked some politics with a local alderman who is running for State Rep and may want me to write him some stump speeches (kick ass) and had an overall good time.

(Scott, next year you HAVE to go. No ifs. Ands. Or buts.)

BTW, in case any of you were wondering. None of us won any money. Not even one of the $100 pots… oh well, it was still a fun night out with family and friends (and no kids.. God love ‘em) and we will do it again next year

Just with better drink-pacing.