After teaching a class last night I went to join E.S. at the winter party thrown for the psychiatric residents at his hospital. When I got there, he was roaring drunk, a state in which I have seen him precisely once before. Ordinarily a very laid-back, jolly fellow, he was now so filled with bliss and contentment that I almost punched him in the nose. I did push him slightly with my finger to see if he would fall over; he managed, disappointingly, to remain upright, although it did require some effort on his part. We stayed at the party a little longer and then went back to his apartment.
On the way we started talking about the party we wanted to plan for when we move into our new house. I proposed one idea; he proposed an alternate idea. Then we had the following conversation:
E.S.: So what do you think?
FAUSTUS: I like my idea better.
E.S.: Why?
FAUSTUS: Because your idea is bad and mine is good.
E.S.: You know, it’s funny. I’m very intoxicated, but I can still tell you’re wrong.
(Pause.)
FAUSTUS: You can never drink again.
E.S.: Why is everything so blurry?
When we got back to his place he wanted to stay up all night and talk but was, thank God, too drunk to do so. We fell asleep in short order and he woke up this morning in terrible agony, for which I gave him almost no sympathy.
Of course, the one time he has seen me drunk, I slammed my hand down next to my plate and slurred, “I’m smarter than everyone at this table put together!”, so I’m really in no position to throw stones.
You, drunk? I’m not quite sure I believe this.
Drunk doctors and highly medicated crazy patients – something tells me one day this event will end up in three-inch hyperbolic letters on the cover of the Post.
lol! I thought you didn’t drink!
Well, E.S. seems to be sweet even when drunk 😉
At least he didn’t proclaim that he is smarter than you…although I believe that you were right!
sam and Ruby: I have drunk alcohol exactly once since E.S. and I met four years ago. It was on Purim, the Jewish holiday on which it’s considered a good deed to get so drunk you can’t tell the good guy in the Purim story from the bad guy. It was also during a particularly bad patch of my various and fun-filled anxiety-spectrum disorders, and I was hoping that getting drunk would make me forget my problems. It did not.
Brian: Oh, would that you were right. But in this case “residents” means “doctors-in-training” rather than “people crazier than batshit.” Alas.
You kids and your alcohol. Always out of control. Kids nowadays! Oy.
Actually, you’re in a perfect position to throw stones: since you’re sober and he’s drunk, he wouldn’t be able to duck out of the way in time. Also, he wouldn’t be able to aim properly if he tried to throw them back.
See? Perfect.
whenever I am drunk I demand a great deal of attention and patience on the part of my friends…but the minute one of them gets drunk it’s the most tiresome thing in the world…
I guess that just means that whether I am drunk or sober I always remain selfish. I am quite reliable that way.
whenever I am drunk I demand a great deal of attention and patience from my friends…but the minute one of them gets drunk it is the most tiresome thing in the world…
I guess that just means that whether I am drunk or sober I always remain selfish. I am quite reliable that way…
So what you’re saying here is in vino veritas, right?
You brought a drunk helpless man home with you and you went to sleep?
Your blog entires often make me smile or chuckle but this is the first one that caused me to make an embarrassingly loud snorting guffaw in a public place. (at the image of you slamming your hand on the table and announcing your smartness).
I have a similar story. When I was drinking my way out of grad school, I was at a department party and someone asked me—from across the room—”Aren’t you Professor _____’s student?”
“Yes,” I shouted back, raising my beer bottle and thrusting it forward as though toasting myself, “and I’m brilliant.”
Silly me. That’ll teach me to comment when I’m drunk.
Tim: You are three seconds older than me, so shut up.
Jeffrey: You’re probably right, but he was also so out of it that he probably wouldn’t notice that he’d started bleeding.
anapestic: Although with many groups of people this would definitely hold true, in this case it happened to be incorrect.
i. bendito: I had my reasons. I will email you to explain.
birdfarm: Well, it was true, wasn’t it?
Brian: That’s okay. You’re still cuteness personified.
Ah alcohol: the poor man’s truth serum.
Ummm… I probably shouldn’t confess to this and blow his cover/innocence, but I happened to have been witness to at least one instance late last summer of Faustus under the influence. (And, no – it wasn’t on Purim.) Let me just say, he gets even MORE adorable after about he’s downed (in record time, no less) a couple of bright, gay-colored Zimas. Yes, ZIMAS. And by “MORE adorable” I mean he starts acting a bit silly. And walking in a zig-zaggy manner. And hugging everyone in sight. While trying to dance.
How many people were seated at the table?
And, well, odds are that you actually were smarter, so I’m not sure if your stone-throwing rights were forfeited.
Why is everything so blurry?
Oh Faustus. Zimas? Was E.S. at least hammered on vodka or champagne? Because if it was just beer, he must be disciplined.