Turning Wine into Nothing

Most people who were subjected to the horror of Sunday School back in the day have heard about the miracle of turning water into wine. Well my eyes were recently opened to a miracle of sorts, or something so incredible that I never believed it possible!

Last Thursday evening saw Whiskey and Wine, along with a couple of other friends heading out to Tiger Tiger after an initial bout of drinks somewhere else, I think, I can't remember too clearly the exact circumstances. Anyway, that will all pale into insignificance when the true story comes to the fore.

For me it was rather enlightening, as I have only ever been to Toiger once before, and it was a bloody good night - which means I can't remember what the place looked like. So besides me for the first time realising what the inside of the place looked like, Wine decided that tonight was an exceptionally good night to celebrate something... Wine if you know or remember what it was please let me know, as I am interested as to what motivates you to go these levels...

Another reason this evening was bound to be like no other was the fact that the other half of "The Board" was present, and as always this results in an exceptional amount of drinking, schmoozing, spading and then some more drinking.

The night proceeded well with Wine pushing the random shooter generator button at the shooter bar. For those of you who have not yet been tainted by this work of Satan it is a button that can be pressed which starts off a gambling style flashing of lights above the shooter bar. A hunjid points to anyone who realizes why Whiskey and Wine appreciate this concept. So these lights all flash in sequence and eventually land on a particular shooter, there is also a light for free round... Wine, in his state, repeatedly pushed this button until the light landed upon free round... at which stage everyone indulged in a suitcase, and I'm not talking about the one you pack for a trip far away.

The shooters kept coming, we kept drinking, Mr Rocker kept refusing, and things began to head into the pear shape to which we have become accustomed. I called it at 01:30 and being the nice guy that I am offered a lift home to Wine, Wine Refused. Period.

I made my way to The Tavern, somehow, somewhere, and proceeded to pass out. I awoke in the morning to a very bleary eyed Soda, which is strange I thought to myself, as Soda was not out drinking till 01:30. The story began to unravel, as I stumbled through to the Kitchen I felt a sense of euphoria which can only be the result of the level of alcohol in my bloodstream still being over the limit. Soda proceeded to enlighten me as to what happened during the time that I made to The Tavern and the present.

"I got woken up at bloody 3 AM by Wine ringing the doorbell... Three times..." Strange I thought, I never heard a thing. Wine then didn't recognize Soda while he was hanging on the garden gate, shouting "Who is it?, Who is it?". Turns out Wine caught a Taxi from Tiger to The Tavern, which would have been fine under normal circumstances, as the Pit of Satan known as Tiger is only about four or five kilometres away. Turns out Wine couldn't pay for the taxi, so the unboozed clear mind of Soda was required to think fast and act in this situation. Turns out the Taxi cost R100. Turns out Wine didn't know where The Tavern was, or how to get there. Turns out the taxi driver had to drive round in circles for 20 minutes.

So with our combined wisdom Soda and myself decide to wake Wine to begin the Sobering process, which hearing about the events from the night before we knew may take a while. Wine stumbled out of his room fully clothed after our trying to wake him, muttering words which, well.. were rather creative in their use and as Wine stumbled through the house bouncing against the walls it all began to make sense. It wasn't only the fact that he was so inebriated that he didn't know the day of the week but also the fact that he wasn't wearing his glasses and thus couldn't tell a door from a wall, or a wall from a door as the case was.

This brought out an interesting debate in that Soda began to realize that this may have been the cause of all the confusion during the middle of the night. Wine couldn't tell which house was The Tavern to the taxi driver, couldn't recognize Soda, and couldn't get undressed before passing out on, luckily for him, his own bed.

A great relief sunk upon us as we realized that Wine hadn't in fact got so remarkably drunk that he had actually permanently lost his vision, and ability to recognize voice, but he just wasn't wearing his glasses!

This brought about the next problem, where were they? Not a problem, we could ask Wine himself. Actually, NO! Wine was still stuck on the "Oh Vok, Never drinking again... Ek voel nie goed nie" record. Which, is no great surprise, we've heard this all before. It also began to dawn on Wine, with a small amount of prompting from Soda, that he had no Phone, Wallet or glasses.

Wine's language actually managed to progress to a new level after this, thank heavens there were no impressionable minds around, as this would have created some questions.

In my sober state it suddenly dawned on me that all our answers would be held by the other half of The Board, and being 08:00 AM I was sure I would get a coherent response, alas to no avail. The question was was met by the sound of resounding laughter, followed by a question: "Was he bloody mugged?"

The research would have to continue elsewhere, Soda left me to look after Wine, and headed off to work. Wine progressed well, managed to take a shower, and get dressed. I decided to allow a bit more time for the effects to where off while Wine practiced his newly discovered colourful vocabulary.

During this period Soda notified me that he had sourced Wine's spectacles. It was discovered that Wine had taken them off as this was the only way he was going to stop drinking. This clear and coherent thought pattern clearly highlights Wine's great ability to think while tanked. So Wine pawns them off to the first women he stumbles into, refusing to take them back. Thank the holy heavens this person knew another person who was affiliated with someone else we were with. And the glasses ended up with him. 1 down, 2 to go.

Cell phone and wallet still AWOL. Sobriety Status: Far from it. So we head into work, Wine stumbles around and starts chatting on IM, partly because that's what he does, and partly because that's about all he was capable of at this point. Turns out that someone on his phone and IM contact list, how's this for coincidence received a phone call at 03:30 from a random guy off Wine's phone, letting her know that he had Wine's phone.

To cut a long story short Wine had once again applied his flawless Tanked logic to a simple situation: Having run out of booze and money he traded his wallet and phone to the bartender for a beer. Good logic. I don't deny it. Flawless.

In the end all was recovered, and Wine's adamant desire to never drink again was ended by a trip to Dossier, where all became well again. But that's another story, for another post, and another empty promise.

Whiskey Out!