Still Drunk From Yesterday
Epic Game 3. Or so I heard. Yes, my body was physically at the SCF Game 3 last night, but where was the rest of me? Maybe I left it in the shot glasses at the bar beforehand.
In this era of binge drinking youngsters (present company included), there’s no place for having a few drinks and going to a sporting event. The mantra is that you go hard or you go home. So either you’re coming out with me beforehand and staying out until you pass out, or you’re not even showing up.
We drink because it makes everything more exciting. When you’re not totally there mentally, things seem almost supernatural. From the pregame intro to the crunching hits and amazing goals, everything is amplified. I felt like Osgood was actually going to hear me berate him over 17,000 others from the roof of the building. I felt like I could fight the whole Red Wings team and demolish them. I felt like flirting with the 60-year-old woman at the concession stand would honestly get me free beer. And that’s exactly the way I wanted to feel…last night. But today, fuck my liver.
