Things NOT TO DO when you are hungover

Since I started drinking in college, I have been trying to figure out if there is a way for me to make money for the monstrous hangovers I get. I have yet to meet anyone that can match my ability to almost die after a night of heavy drinking. If you are thinking to yourself "why do you keep drinking like that if it makes you feel that way?" you need to stop reading right here. I don't need your negative rationale on my blog. Well, actually, I will answer your question and then you need to stop reading. First of all, when I drink I become very good looking. A few libations also give me the ability to reveal my amazing dance moves. My smile becomes brighter, and my eyes become a little bluer. Also, I become wicked funny and smart (which is pretty tough because I am already pretty funny and smart as is, so I guess I can just go ahead and call alcohol 'magic juice' because it brings me to a level that would be seen if Tina Fey and Stephen Hawking had a kid). So, there is your answer. If you asked that question, you can go ahead and leave my blog now. Go read The Wall Street Journal or something.

For those of you who understand the beauty of things like Irish Car Bombs followed by shots of Goldschlager, please continue reading because I am about to bestow another life lesson on you. The next time you find yourself in a blurry haze trying to piece together the remnants from the night before, figure some things out before proceeding with your day.

One: How hungover are you? Wait, that shouldn't be number one.

One (take two): Are you still drunk? If you are, you might think that you are going to have a fine day because you still feel a little good and you don't realize that the ethanol poisoning has not kicked in yet. BEWARE. Don't make any plans to do anything quite yet. Let that buzz make its way through your body and THEN decide if you have the capability to be a functioning member of society that day.

Two (once you have answered one as a 'no'): How hung over are you? Now this is a tricky question. Much like Dante's Inferno, there are many different levels to a hang over. They range from fuzziness that will recede in a few hours (this would be the first level, where you hang out with the unbaptized or those virtuous pagans, which sounds a lot like my typical Friday night) to an all out knocking on death's door hang over, making atheist bargain with God, where your head may explode at any moment and you can vomit at the drop of a hat or by seeing fake blood on TV (this would be the center of Hell, where the worst of the worst are being chewed on by Satan himself).

Once you determine which level you are on, you can figure out how to proceed with your day.

Levels One through Three: Go ahead and get your shit done. If you have an option for a little more sleep, take it. If you don't, be forewarned that you will probably feel pretty crummy after your very unproductive day at work or what not.

Levels Four through Six: BE CAREFUL. These are some tricky hang overs. They will allow you to get out of bed and function, but will catch up with you very quickly and unexpectedly (much like a bad burrito). They also come with physical signs that make you appear incredibly "torn up" to the rest of the public. These include (but are not limited to): smeared makeup (even if you put on fresh makeup before you left), mismatched clothing, clothing worn incorrectly, sloppy ass hair, squinty eyes, terrible breath, and body odors that strongly resemble the bar you were in the night before. When you find yourself experiencing one of these hangovers, please make a note of some of the worst things you could possibly do at this point (and these are all from past experience):

• Going to a Mardi Gras warehouse that sells every form of bead, trinket, and bullshit that can be thrown from a float in quantities from one to a gross. I did this and decided to buy my mom a $10 necklace (which I refer to as Hoo Hoo beads). You can only guess her response if you have read this post. If you can't guess, it was something along the lines of "Why did you waste your money on this shit? I am not wearing these heavy things anywhere. I'll just give them to a stranger or something."
• Going anywhere with fluorescent lighting. This includes Wal-Mart, the mall, the grocery store, etc.
• Going anywhere that might contain children. This includes Wal-Mart, the mall, the grocery store, etc.
• Going anywhere that might contain other people. This includes Wal-Mart, the mall, the grocery store, etc.
• Going to the Gynecologist. True story. Horrible, but true story. 
• Going to the gym. 

Levels Seven through the Center: DON'T DO ANYTHING. 

• Pull the blinds down. Put the A/C on real high and get some heavy blankets. 
• Turn whatever crappy TV marathon on (my personal choice is Real Housewives of Anywhere or America's Next Top Model) and put the volume on low (just in case NeNe starts yelling, you don't want to have to find the remote- which is usually right next to you or underneath you). 
• Eat things that will be OK coming back up. My personal preference is spaghettios or plain potato chips. 
• Don't watch or look at anything that could make you queasy. One time, my roommates and I were watching an episode of VH1 "I love the 90s" and they showed a clip from Nickelodeon Double Dare- the show where kids would compete and if they lost, some green gooey liquid would be dropped on their head (aka Gak). The instant the Gak appeared on our screen, I high tailed it to the bathroom and lost the Mexican food I had put down as a base the night before. 

Please keep this post in mind the next Sunday (or Tuesday) morning when you wake up feeling like hell. 

Tampering with a smoke detector is a federal offense...

But being a class A asshole is not.

Oh, travel woes again. I am pretty sure it is just my destiny in life- to get on any plane that is having some issues and to happen to board that plane with all of the biggest jackasses possible. Anytime I get caught up in some travel mess, I find that it is not the situation that I am in that I hate- it is the people that I am in the situation with that make it so terrible. As Sartre said "Hell is other people." So right indeed.

So this flightmare occurred on my way to Bahston for the 4th. I took a late flight out of NOLA and expected to arrive in Beantown around midnight. I had about an hour layover in Detroit- should have been plenty of time to grab some food, pee (I DO NOT pee on planes..... EVER), and get to my next flight. But, to paraphrase an old Mississippi State coach, after the plane took off 'lots went wrong.' (God bless Mississippi, the only state that looks Louisiana look good).

I was fortunate enough to have randomly selected a seat in front of a guy who made the cast of Jersey Shore look like Rhodes Scholars.  He was apparently in New Orleans as a construction guy but was based out of Michigan. At one point, he asked the guy sitting next to him where he could see alligators because he really wanted to wrestle one and that "it couldn't be that bad, they were always doing it on tv." Really, if you think about it, that is a beautiful way to live life. I mean- magic must really exist, as do vampires, Jedis, and love stories where the nerdy person suddenly becomes hot and gets the cool kid in the class. To sum up the genius in seat 23B, I will give some stats and some quotes.

• Number of phone calls made or answered while still in the air: 4
• Number of times he used the phrase "I am going to make it rain": 20+
• Number of times he told his friend sitting next to him that he had a blind date: 12
• Number of times he referred to his blind date as a "bitch": 10 (as in that 'bitch' is going to looovvve me)

• While talking to the girl next to me: "Where are you flying to? Maryland? Where is that?"
• While talking to the girl next to me: "What's your name? That's a weird name. Where are you from? Where? West Africa? Is that like in Africa Africa?"
• While talking to the girl across the aisle from him: "Where are you from? Louisiana? No- I mean like are you French or something cause you look French. Oh- well I am French. Like good at French kissing, if you know what I mean."

We got to Detroit and began to circle the city. Around and around and around and around. The Captain made an announcement about bad weather in Detroit and needed to delay our landing. At this point, Einstein got really fed up and begin to make his first in a series of phone calls: "Man this is bullshit. This asshole says there is bad weather. I don't see shit. I am looking at the sunshine. Yall better wait at the bar for me. I am buyin shots for EVERYONE. I am gonna make it rain, yo." While ole' boy gave his experienced opinion on the meterological situation, a child three rows back screamed the ABCs for the 7th time. The child's mother interrupted him long enough to see if he wanted anymore candy. I cannot think of a recent situation which better highlighted the range of assholes that epitomize America. Don't get me wrong- I love this country- I get all choked up when I hear patriotic music- but it never ceases to amaze me how many people feel that their right to "Freedom of Speech" actually means that they are informed and strangers actually want to hear what they have to say.

In order to not completely lose it, I had to really focus on my breathing and start composing this post in my head. I quietly smiled to myself as I thought of multiple ways to describe this guy's stupidity as I counted his wonderful catch phrases.

After circling The Motor City for 45 minutes, the Captain made an announcement that we needed to land in Grand Rapids to refuel and wait for the weather to blow through Detroit. As you can imagine, this announcement did not go over really well- especially with the guy who was now standing up his blind date. There was a massive uproar and many a groan in which people bitched about their plans (emphasis on their because they were the only ones that had plans- honestly- when I fly- I usually just fly about without any plans). We landed in Grand Rapids, and I texted my friend in Boston to let her know what was going on. For some reason, my iphone kept autocorrecting Grand Rapids to Grand Rapists which leads me to believe that Apple has more advanced technology than they claim since apparently they could now autocorrect my words to match my situation and my mood.

We sat on the ground in Grand Rapids for about 45 minutes while the storm blew over Detroit. During this time, the asinine guy behind me somehow proceeded to get incredibly drunk even though I never saw a flight attendant serve him a drink. At one point, someone from the ground crew had to get on the plane to get an oxygen tank for another plane which prompted the idiot to shout "What!? I mean- Jesus Christ- if they need some help just send them to a fucking hospital." I would be incredibly upset, too, if I was missing a blind date with someone I had already nicknamed "Bitch."

We eventually got off the ground and got back to Detroit. When I got off of the plane- I checked the monitor- and realized that my flight to Boston had been delayed- it was 12:02- and I had until 12:10 to get to the flight. OK- not a problem. I can get there. Then I checked the gate information. My flight to Boston was at Gate A75. I was currently at Gate A6. That's right, A6. I took off. I sprinted between each moving sidewalk and then powerwalked on the sidewalks. I passed groups of people leisurely ambling. I was running like a bat out of hell in flats, a regular bra, jeans, and a long sleeve shirt. I swear that the concourse was over a mile long.

I got to the gate breathing like a heavy set mailman who has smoked his whole life and just got chased by the neighborhood dog. I was also sweating profusely. Grossly profusely. Like a dude. The great news was the plane was still there. I could not have been happier. Despite my life lesson of 'always carry underwear,' I did not have an extra pair on my person and was going to be an unhappy girl if I found myself sleeping on the airport floor again (for the second time in two months) with unfresh underwear.

I got on the plane and found my seat without making eye contact with anyone. I felt really bad for the woman who was sitting next to me. I used my long sleeve shirt to wipe the pools of sweat off of my face and tried my best to put my hair up in a way that didn't look like I just went through a natural disaster. I failed. We sat on the runway for a few minutes while other passengers got on the plane- the same passengers that were walking through the airport as I sprinted by them like a Kenyan in the Olympics. I got to Boston safe and sound- a little sweaty, gross hair, hungry, tired, and with a full bladder. But I got there. Surprisingly enough, my luggage made it too. While I skipped showering before I went to bed (so I would not wake up my friends), I absolutely put on some clean underwear and happily fell asleep in my final destination, with visions of alligators attacking idiots from Michigan dancing through my head.