Final Round; My First & Last Experience with Scotch

I was 21 in 1989 & had just left my boyfriend of 3 years. He’d been too controlling. We never went anywhere & I could barely breathe without his okay. To get me out & meeting new people, a friend (not related to my ex in any way,) invited me to a wedding reception. I accepted.

The bar was open & I took advantage of it. Not much for hard liquor, I stuck to beer all afternoon. At one point another friend of mine approached & gave me a cup of scotch. I didn’t know it was scotch & by then, I certainly wasn’t about to sip it. Down it went--about 3 shots worth, all at once. I immediately felt sick, but managed to keep it down. Somehow it had slipped my mind that mixing drinks really doesn’t agree with me, but I would be reminded of it soon enough...

Needless to say, after guzzling the scotch (on top of all the beer,) it was time for me to go home. I didn’t embarrass myself at the party--yet--but I was getting stumbly & my friend was looking out for my best interests. I barely remember the ride home, but evidently I’d dropped a lit cigarette on my skirt, because the next day I found that skirt with a one foot diameter hole in the lap.

It was a hot Summer in Canada, with temperatures well above 100F. The air conditioner in my apartment was in my living room, which had a door that closed it off from the rest of the unit, keeping it nice & cool. I got some water to drink & a large pot to be sick in & went to sleep on my couch, too exhausted to even take off my clothes.

I was violently ill soon after & got sick all over myself, unable to even make it to the pot on the floor next to the couch. Still too tired & sick to deal with anything, I pulled off the now puke-stained clothes & went back to sleep. I woke again soon afterward for another bout of vomiting, but this time there were no clothes to take off--I’d thrown up all over myself. I got up & stumbled for the door, naked & covered in puke, heading to the bathroom to clean myself up.

I opened the door to the rest of my apartment & stepped through...to find my kitchen full of friends playing cards. Evidently they'd decided to move the party to my place, unbeknownst to me. Fortunately I was sick enough that I didn’t even care & my friends proved to be true; the incident was never mentioned again.