We didn't go out until about ten o'clock. Me, my roommate, my brother, my sister, her boyfriend, and a few of her boyfriend's friends. Those who were supposed to show up didn't. One because (I later found out) he drank too much at another party and couldn't drive, one whose good friend had a crisis causing him to stay home, one who is currently M.I.A., and my best friend and her boyfriend who said they'd go out, but clearly didn't want to so I let them off the hook.

What is the lesson learned from a night of heavy drinking? I am too old for it. I am twenty four years old and too old to drink so much.

We started at a small bar called No Way Jose Cafe. As might be expected of a bar with that name, they serve excellent margaritas. My roommate and I split a giant margarita. Literally, I could wear the glass as hat if I chose. I believe it's meant for four to six people. We polished it off in about ten minutes. With a good buzz going, my next drink was a Seven and Seven. Normally those are quite tasty, but this one was way too strong. I usually don't mind strong drinks, but whiskey tastes very bitter to me. In my flawed logic I figured it would be better to drink the bitter drink REALLY fast so that I won't have to taste is as long. Big mistake, since, as I'm sure you all know, it just got me drunk even faster.

While all the drinking was going on, I was having an excellent time conversing with my friends and family. Generally I hate going to bars because you're expected to talk to people you don't even know, expected to laugh, flirt, and for the most part just be "on". That didn't occur on Friday night; I simply sat and drank and lauged with people close to me. Ok, so they weren't all close to me, but whatever.

Sometime during my Seven and Seven, my roommate and I decided that we'd play the nudie game. You know, the touch screen video game where they show you two pictures of the same scantily clad man or woman and you have to find the five differences between the pictures? We played about four rounds of that. I'm not sure if it was the alcohol, but I could not stop staring at all the nudity long enough to find all of the differences.

After Seven and Seven, I switched to my standard drink, Stoli Vanilla and Ginger Ale. If you've never had that drink, try it as soon as possible. It tastes like cream soda. Yum. For those of you keeping tabs, I've had a LOT of liquor at this point. After finishing my drink and after the group of us sung along rowdily to Livin' On a Prayer, Never Gonna Give You Up, and Genie in a Bottle (Christina, what happened? You used to be so cute!), we decided to move on to another bar. Sister's boyfriend suggested we go to a bar called Nevins. We schlepp over there and immediately realize that Nevins is not a place where we belong. It was karaoke night at Nevins, and 75% of the patrons wore either a cowboy hat or apparal with fringes. Who know that kind of bar existed in Baltimore? So we announce to everyone that we're leaving, and go to the next bar we find, called Volsteads. I have never been to Volsteads, but it seemed like a nice place. Well populated, but not over crowded.

After we enter Volsteads I notice Ron, one of sister's boyfriend's friends, tucking what looks like mail into his jacket pocket. I saw, "What is that? you're reading mail at the bar?" It's his birth certificate! Ron lost his ID so he's carrying around his birth certificate so that he can get into bars. I found this hysterical.

I don't remember actually buying any drinks at Volsteads. Alcohol just kept appearing in front of me, so, to be polite I keep drinking it. It is at this point in the evening that everything gets a little hazy. I remember someone giving me TWO shots of something called a Red Headed Slut. I don't know what was in it, but I'm guessing Jagermeister or Sambuca. After the first shot, I tried to decline the second, but my sister explained that if I didn't it would just go to waste. And who can argue with that logic? I drank, I smoked, I laughed. At one point my brother and I had this conversation:

Stacey's Brother: What is the name of this bar again?

Stacey: Voldemort's.

SB: Voldemort's?

S: Yes, Voldemort's. Is that not right?

SB: Well...it sounds familiar. But that's a strange name for a bar.

S: Voldemort. Voldemort. Voldemort.

SB: No. This is Volstead's. Volstead's.

S: Who is Voldemort? Voldemort. Voldemort.

SB: Voldemort. Isn't that from Harry Potter?

S: Shit! Harry Potter! You-Know-Who!!

And so it went. At some point we walked home, though I don't remember when. My brother says that he, my roommate, and I were all holding hands, and who am I to call him a liar?

Then came the morning. I woke up at about seven a.m. needing to go to the bathroom. As I stood out of bed my head spun and I realized that I was STILL intoxicated. I collapsed back into bed. At 11:30 I woke again, feeling sick. My head hurt, my stomach hurt, my eyes hurt. I laid in bed thinking, "I'm too old for this...I'm too old for this." I took advil and wished I had pepto bismol. I curled into the fetal position, wishing away my nausea. It was worse than the flu.

Eventually I started to feel better. By the evening I actually went shopping and ate a piece of pizza. I think the grease did my body good.

I learned my lesson. The crazy night always seems fun, but in college I didn't have the horrible mornings. I bounced right back. My body can no longer handle it.

I'm sure I'll forget that in time for the Pub Crawl in March.