I am 18 years of age, pissing fire and crapping lightning. And no, those weren’t medical conditions, just feeling pretty much like a badass.
I was invincible.
Then someone handed me a mason jar of clear liquid that inexorably altered my existence on planet Earth.
Now I am on the record as being a very liberal person, open to new experiences, things and places.
But who in the fuck came up with the idea of making Everclear? I can see that moonshine was made by fucking up a batch of whiskey, but Everclear had to be made for the express purpose of seeing how much blood a human can pass in their stool, or how much of your larynx can be dissolved pounding shots of grain alcohol.
I can see it now.
Tom: “Hey Otis try this…”
Tom: “How is it? Strong?”
Otis: “No. Stronger.”
Tom: “How is it now? Otis? Otis? Otis?”
So what did I do?
I pounded two glasses before finding myself in another town with a person whom I didn’t know. Evidently, her name was Sue and we were good friends. At least we weren’t married. I kinda felt like the whole thing was a dream and I decided to go along with it. The town we were in was in a rural area and the big news was they just got a Wal-Mart.
At least I wasn’t in some dank mushroom and spider-covered basement waiting for my organs to be removed.
I had no earthly idea where I was or who this Sue person was or where she thought she knew me from.
I somehow managed to fight through the haze in my eyes, the fog in my head, and the ringing in my ears, and ended up in a wooden cart. I saw the wooden planks of the cart had a dozen or so green husks littered across them. I clearly remember sharing a big piece of crumbly Dutch Apple pie with a person in a brown leather pilot jacket who was drinking a jar of Everclear. He looked like either Joe or Brian Hackett from the hilarious show Wings. You ABSOLUTELY MUST WATCH the episode where Brian and Antonio (played by Tony Shalhoub) go out to pick up girls at the Cable Car Lounge.
I promise you will laugh your ass off. I’m laughing right now just thinking about it.
Back to my story, I made it back home with no credible recollection of my missing two days. It wasn’t even credible to me. I vaguely remember falling off a horse (this definitely sounds like something I would do if I were drunk) and despite my insistence that I slipped and fell in a muddy corral, my spotless pants and shirt were evidence I did not. I was also missing a beret I thought I was wearing.
So, one more time, There but for the Grace of God…
I know I was being Watched Over because I was doing a really shitty job of doing it for myself.
P.S. Don’t drink and drive.