Every Saturday, I leave Aidan is Wesley’s care and escape for what I like to call “Erika Sanity Time”.  It’s a time for me to sit down, read a book, and relax without running the risk that a tiny little human will need me for anything for at least an hour.

I usually set up camp at a cozy Starbucks near my house, but a few weeks ago the weather was nice so I decided to enjoy a margarita out on the patio of a local Mexican restaurant.  I’ve enjoyed a few alcoholic beverages since Aidan was born, but Wes has, at my request, made them all pretty light.

This margarita was not light.  But I didn’t know that until it was too late.

There I am, murder mystery novel in one hand, empty margarita glass in the other, and I take stock.  I’m feeling nothing.  No buzz, not drunkity, nothing.

Curious, I figure they watered down the margarita or something so I order another one.  I figure, “Hey!  I’m relaxing, who knows when I’ll get to do this again, why not do it up right?”

Well, a quarter of the way through the second margarita the first one hits home.  And I am plastered.

Wes texts me to ask if I’m having fun and I can barely type back.  I self-correct my hundreds of little typos and assure him that not only am I drunkity, I’ve solved the murder mystery to boot.

Now I have a little bit of a problem.  I’m hammered, sitting in a public place, and, because I never really did any partying in my youth, I’m not really sure what to do about it.

So I start shoveling tortilla chips into my mouth like I’m a bulldozer operator on a Friday afternoon.  In between mouthfuls of tortilla chips, I pound glasses of water.  Over the next hour, I receive no less than three scornful glances from the waiters, who all watch me inhale the chips with something like disdain and disgust.  This doesn’t matter, though, because my intoxication level drops from drunkity to merely slap-happy.

I estimate that I’ll be safe to drive in another hour or so, so I gather my things, pay up, and hit the grocery store.  Where I discover something magical: Shopping is approximately 1000% more fun when you’re slightly buzzed.

The same annoying people were still there, but I just didn’t care.  I floated through the aisles, admiring the pretty displays and really taking the time to examine the different products on the shelves.  I smiled and made polite chit-chat with the clerks and cashiers I crossed paths with.

By the time I sobered up and climbed into my car, my grocery shopping was done and I couldn’t have been more relaxed.  Let this be two lessons to you:

  • Lesson the first: If you’ve recently been pregnant, you are a lightweight.  One margarita ought to do it, lady.
  • Lesson the second: If you find grocery shopping (or crowds {or the exorbitant price of food}) as stressful as I do, maybe go grocery shopping with a little buzz.  Or, conversely, if you run into a total grumpus at the store, try suggesting to them that they hit the bar before hitting you with their shopping cart again.

7 thoughts on “Lightweight

  1. Gotta love shopping while buzzed. Though I’m wondering if person(s) running into you with their cart hadn’t already taken your advice and weren’t such happy drunks?

  2. So that’s what we’re doing wrong when we do our weekly shopping! Suggestion noted. Next weekend there will be booze, THEN food shopping. ;)

    Wicked funny post.

  3. -Blanche, Have you done the shopping while buzzed thing? It’s so wonderful, I don’t know why it took me so long to discover it! It’s possible there are mean drunks at the store, I suppose, but I don’t know why they would be. What’s not to love about free food samples when you’re a little buzzed?

    -Brooke, There you go! Enjoy! Let me know how it works out! Thanks for the compliment!!

  4. Not grocery shopping per se, but I have very fond memories of the 24-hour CVS that had the mis-fortune to (a) be located within easy walking distance of my college and (b) have corporate putting free item coupons in the weekly circulars (ah, the heady days of the mid-90’s).

    It was a most excellent place to end up after a non-DD night at one of the bars. Because who doesn’t make “smart” color choices in lipstick or nailpolish while buzzed (or more-likely drunk, because the nights we ended up there were not nights we ended up at the Waffle House downing carbs and grease before heading back to campus to sleep it off)?

  5. -Blanche, Ha! My little brother worked for a CVS in CA and he used to tell me fun stories of the weirdos and drunkity people who would come visit. I’ve never hit an IHOP/Waffle House-esque place while drunk, but it’s something I’d definitely like to try someday!

  6. Haha. So cute. It sounds like a fun learning experience. So…where you right about your solution to the murder mystery?

  7. -Syd, Um, no, not even close. How cliche that I think I’m completely brilliant when I’m snockered :)

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