Drinking Is For The Birds

If you are a reader of my blog, you know that I am a fan of alcoholic beverages.

If this is your first time reading… Hi! I am a fan of alcoholic beverages.

Now that we have established that, I will confess that every now and then (now = Friday, then = Saturday) I may over indulge in said alcoholic beverages. When I say this, I don’t mean that I am a danger to myself or others, nor is this the beginning of a confession in which I am admitting that I have a problem. It’s just to say that every once in a while this will result in fuzzy memories or lost memories. It is hard to explain if you have never experienced it yourself. It has happened to me a few times since I turned the legal drinking age of 21 (of course I didn’t drink before that, why would you even think that).

Of course I have an example…

A little less than a year ago, I found myself in Brainerd, MN, on a Saturday morning, opening a beer. Yes, it was a beautiful start to one of my favorite pastimes – day drinking.

You can’t drink all day if you don’t start in the morning.” – Unknown Drunk Person

The biggest problem that I encounter when day drinking is that I tend not to eat. While this does allow me to achieve my desired level of inebriation in a short amount of time, it can result in over shooting my mark.

As the last swallow of my first Bud Light ran down my throat, I knew that I was going to over shoot my mark. Since I had been drinking the night before, one beer took me from hangover to a pleasant buzz. I was prepared for a fun day with great friends.

I spent the majority of the day with some of my best friends in the world, playing drinking games and reminiscing. But, as often happens with drunk people, we grew tired of just each others company and decided to move on to a bar to find other people to tell the same stories to.

Now I was in public. Again, I am never a danger to myself (aside from spending money in excess and just generally making an ass of myself) or others (aside from talking WAY too much about things they do not care about).

I can’t tell you much about the afternoon after we arrived at the bar. I most likely had a great time as I woke up with what I have come to call “the Sunday Blues” (my version of a hangover).

I made the drive home to Maple Grove successfully.

Sunday night as I lay in bed, I turned to my wife and said, “I had the weirdest dream the other night.”

Quick side note: I hate talking about dreams and/or hearing about other people’s dreams. My wife is the opposite.

“What happened?” she asked, uninterested in looking away from whatever BuzzFeed article had grabbed her attention prior.

“I am not sure exactly what happened, but I know it had something to do with a bird. It was so vivid, I was holding a bird… it is so weird.”

“Crazy…”

I couldn’t shake the feeling, it seemed so real. So, I decided to check with the friends that I was with on Saturday (names have been blurred to ensure day drinkers remain anonymous).

IMG_2227I really couldn’t believe it. A couple of weeks passed and I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I had interacted with a bird. It was like when you hear a song and get the emotional pang of a memory but can’t quite grab the entire moment. It was frustrating. I decided to let it go.

It was just a dream.

Sunday June 29, 2014 at 10:30 PM. I am looking through the pictures on my phone trying to get rid of useless screen shots that are taking up memory, when I see a picture of me that I haven’t seen before. I tap on the screen to enlarge the picture and scream, “I knew it!”

In the dark confines of my bedroom, the most amazing picture that I have ever taken is staring back at me on the screen of my phone…

IMG_1256

Notice the laziness of my eyes. If you should ever encounter these eyes in the wild, it is your opportunity to ask me to buy you a drink or ask my honest opinion on any topic you wish. Also, please make sure that I am not lost.

 

 

To this day, I have absolutely no clue what circumstances led me to holding this wild animal. This has left a couple of unanswered questions: where was I going? How did I catch this bird? Why was I by myself? Why didn’t I tell anybody when I returned to the bar? Did I wash my hands afterward? Just kidding, of course I didn’t.

While I would not advocate that anyone drink to the point that they don’t remember things. It is a little fun to think about the possibilities.

I wonder what else I don’t remember…

Cheers.

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