On August 4, 1984, I was in a car riding across the state of Colorado. I was on my way to Denver to catch a plane to Casper, Wyoming, to visit my cousin. Now, I was riding with a friend of my maternal grandmother’s who had to take rest breaks along the way. I wasn’t sure we were going to get there in time for me to catch my plane or not – even though I think we left early in the morning and it was an evening flight.
Well, we got to Denver and one of the streets we had to take to get to the airport – Stapleton at this time – was flooded. It had been raining in Denver, obviously. And it was still raining when my plane took off. I seem to recall seeing lightening flashes outside the plane window as it flew.
Well, the plane landed in Casper without incident. My cousin was waiting for me. I won’t go into all the details of the trip. But it was fun. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
One thing I will tell about. About six days into the visit, my cousin decided I needed to experience what it was like to be drunk. No, she didn’t “get me drunk.” She didn’t force the beer down my throat. And she told me that I could stop if I didn’t feel right about it. But I figured, “what the heck?” She also stopped me after a certain point. Only she and I know what that point was. :o)
Now, I have a somewhat lack of motor skills control ordinarily. Intoxication makes it worse. I would start laughing – for whatever reason, I was drunk, remember? – and would try to sit back in the chair I was in and would bang my head into the wall behind me. This seemed to entertain my cousin and her boyfriend. She got miles out of that story.
Aside from learning that the morning after isn’t worth the night before, I also learned that it’s not a good idea to take aspirin before you’ve put anything else into your stomach. Ever thrown up aspirin? It ain’t pretty.
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