Notes on Charleston: Blackouts and Shakes

‘Wish I can give you this feeling, I feel like buying

And if my dealer don't have no more, then

(I feel like dying)’

—Lil Wayne

        I feel like I have a hangover.  My head aches, I’ve got a bade case of the shakes, and my stomach feels uneasy.  But I didn’t drink much last night.  I had maybe five beers over the course of five hours.  My head injury almost a decade ago caused a chemical imbalance in my brain that had to be corrected with medication.  Although I probably don’t need it anymore, I’ve taken the pills every day for seven years—a half in the A.M. and two at night.  My script ran out yesterday though.  So I’m feeling pretty rough.

   

    I called my doctor a few days ago to have my prescription transferred to a pharmacy down here.  The pharmacy texted me that it was “TOO SOON” to refill my medication and that they would not fill it until today.  In the future, I’ll stick with Wal-Mart so I don’t go through withdrawal.  I feel really sick.  Fortunately I’m not some baby back bitch.  I have plans today.  This is not my first time experiencing withdrawal.  I quit smoking, twice.  Quit drinking, twice.  Came off an almost decade-long amphetamine bender.  You just have to try to ignore it and go about your day.  I stopped by the pharmacy this morning and they explained they had to order the medication.  Hopefully they’ll have it this afternoon.  Yeah, hopefully, I’m two doses behind.  The hardest part right now is fighting off the shakes.

    Speaking of shakes, my roommate—ol’ Squinty—admitted he needed to quit drinking (as he pounded a beer).  My other roommate (who we’ll call Wheezy) and I explained to him that according to our counts, the night before he consumed 15 beers and half a bottle of whiskey, totaling somewhere in excess of 23 drinks in one sitting.  We weren’t partying, we weren’t at a bar, we were sitting around watching music videos.  That’s ridiculous.  We had to carry him to bed and set up his CPAP machine, which he was too drunk to use and snored so bad I slept on the couch.

    

    “How can you forget a whole person!?” Wheezy asked Squinty (who had no memory of a coworker coming over and hanging out for well over an hour).  The last thing he remembered was the neighbor girl, who works with us, coming over for a drink, which happened way earlier on in the evening before I got home.  That whole situation was sad.  He kept on and on about that girl, who is probably a good twenty years younger than him.  He is old enough to be her father.  He went on these repetitive tirades about finger-fucking, describing different techniques like the “Thumbelina.”  Clearly he hasn’t had any action in a while.  And I haven’t either, but I’m also not freaking out at the mere sight of the opposite sex like some hormone-addled teeny bopper.  “Find ‘em.  Fuck ‘em.  Forget about ‘em.”  He just kept belligerently repeating.  All his talk comes off as desperate and pitiful.  He gives me this bad vibe.  

    Sure, we came down here to have fun.  But at a certain point you’ve got to act your age.  We’re not twenty anymore.  He’s 44.  His maturity level is right down there about 21.  I enjoy drinking and admittedly imbibe too much.  But the key is to be functional.  Your roommates should not be putting you to bed.  You shouldn’t be blacking out on a casual night of “beers with the boys.”  This isn’t college.  We’re grown ass men.  Wash some fucking dishes, fold your laundry, clean your messes.  And grow the fuck up.

    My rant aside, I’ve been trying to lure my roommates out of the house.  It’s not healthy for adults to sit around drinking and getting high all damn day when there’s a huge world right outside the window.  Tonight I convinced Wheezy to drive Squinty and I to the local distillery for a tasting.  They distill bourbon, rye, gin, and vodka.  This will be their first outing to the wild world outside of our apartment aside from work and Waffle House.  There’s so much to fucking do, I keep reminding them.  Why bother even coming to the beach if you’re just going to sit around the apartment?  They tell me I’m too active and need to chill out around the apartment more, haha.  The Hell you say!?

    

    Until the next adventure.  My next rant.  And my next dose of meds...  

    …Cheers!