Raging Dad

I have to admit, that I really never partied very hard while in college. I think I remember hurling once or twice, but I was not one to hit the big parties and get blitzed. Maybe this is because I’ve never really been much of a beer guy, which made me a bit of an oddball in college. Here in Portland, which must be a micro brew capital of America, I guess I am still a bit of an anomaly. Of course, now that I am of age it is easier to enjoy a drink that is more suited to my interest. Like wine or hard liquor.

The weekend before last I was back in St. Paul, Minnesota, to attend my 10-year college reunion from Macalester College. In addition to Class of 1999 events, it was also an all-year reunion for the a capella group that I sang in through college. At non-Greek small liberal arts college like Mac, this is as close to a fraternity as we had. We called ourselves the Traditions, and wore ridiculous plaid jackets and sang a capella versions of Nine Inch Nails and Aerosmith instead of your typical doo wop.

Raging Dad, at age 20. Notice the They Might Be Giants t-shirt under the plaid jacket. Cool.

Suffice to say, there were a lot of friends there this weekend, most of whom were away from their families and responsibility just like I was. To add to the madness, we all stayed in the dorms, and the college put us all on the same floor… Brilliant!

Friday night we were up late drinking at a bar and then hung out on campus before crashing. Nothing too crazy. Saturday night, after our performance in the martini tent, we ended up at a hoppin’ party in a dorm lounge that was a bunch of Class of 2004 folks, and pretty much anyone else who happened to come by. I’m sure that this sort of party would have been shut down in a heartbeat had it been during the year, but who is gonna hassle a bunch of alumni who are of legal age and potential donors to the school?

Gobble gobble.

Somehow I managed to get a hold of a bottle of whiskey from my buddy Cal, and was drinking from it liberally. At one point someone said, “Dude, that’s not iced tea!” I guess I was taking some sizable nips… I also ignored the fact that I’d had a few (maybe five) glasses of Pinot Noir and a vodka tonic prior to the party. But who was counting, right?

I fully remember getting back to my room that night (with some help), and actually woke up around 9 a.m. without an alarm. At this point: no vomiting. I felt like hell, but things seemed like they were gonna be alright. Guesses on how long that lasted? Read on…

A few friends came over to pick me up and take me to breakfast before catching a flight back to Oregon. By the time we were getting out of the car at the nice family neighborhood restaurant, things were starting to fall apart. Walking up the sidewalk I urped out a couple of mouth fulls of barf, but I didn’t think too much of it as I didn’t have to double over or anything like that. Seemed like an optional vomit to me. So I went on.

By the time my table mates were digging into their Tex-Mex omelets and biscuits and gravy, I realized that shit was gonna fly. I ran back to the bathroom and had my way with the bowl. The trouble was, every couple of minutes a dad would walk in with some nice little kid to use the stall next to me. Here they were, chit-chatting on a lovely Sunday after church, no doubt, and next to them is a Raging Drunk hurling his guts out. Fuck. This was no good. I buttoned it up and went to clean up at the sink. On the positive side, I only barfed once in the sink and then had enough control to get out of the building for some fresh air.

All I wanted to do was crawl into a ball and die. Instead, I went back in and stared at a piece of dry toast next to my friends who were all gobbling down platefuls of what-may-has-well-have-been pure bile and death. I managed to survive through it and make it to a light rail station where I slumped into a ball and kept my stomach from any further explosions until I reached the Twin Cities International Airport.

You know, I can see why that place is a place for cruisers. I found a bathroom that I swear was so remote that it may has well have been a drunks-and-gay-senators-only restroom. There, I puked so long and hard that I burst blood vessels in my eyes and cheeks. I was testifying before the porcelain judge and jury, and there was no order in the court. It was naaaaaaasty.

Now, a week or so later, I have recovered except for my still-bloodshot eyes. Raging Mom is sure I had alcohol poisoning and almost died. I like to think of it more as a brush with what college life must have been like for most undergrads. Only at 32, it takes a bit longer to bounce back than at 19!

Song of the day: “Dead, Drunk, and Naked,” by Drive-By Truckers.

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Filed under: questionable parenting decisions, raging history | Tagged: alcohol, college, drunk, reunions, vomiting