I just don't have the bone structure for it anymore.
When you get old, there are some things you just have to come to terms with. Gone are the days when you could drink all night and wake up in a chair, grab the nearest beer and start all over. Sooner or later, pot ceases to send you flying and just kicks you in the ass, rendering you unconscious within minutes.
I went to a friends staggette Satruday night. I was not planning on drinking. Mainly because I hate leaving my car anywhere and going through all the bullshit of getting it back the next morning. Anyway, the bride's mother convinced me to have a few. At first I said no but she presented me with a Chocolate Russian. Ok, I was committed.
As long as we were at the house, shootin' the shit on the back deck, it was fun. I had made my decision and I was prepared to get shit-faced. I did not, however, manage to get shit-faced before they decided to take the party on the road and visit the local 'Pick-a-Pig'.
I don't do crowds very well and a crowd of drunken 20-somethings is not something I look forward to.
I made it to just outside the pub. I am sitting in the car watching the patrons pour out of the pub. A group crosses the street, one girl yells back some obscenity to the bouncer and falls flat on her ass. There she was, in all her glory with her skirt jacked up around her waste revealing a very unfortunate choice in undergarments.
At that moment my decision was made. Reality slapped me in the face. "I am definately not drunk enough to go in there."
Guess I will just quietly rage against the dying of the light. Ok, maybe not rage, more like whimper pitifully.