Every Time I Drank in 2014

A catalog and experiment in which I documented each soiree, late nite confessional, regret, revelation, and adventure for the span of a year. I tried to the truth.

[everytimeidrankin2014]

Changi Village, Singapore - 12/31

Begin with Bombay, begin at home. By Bombay, I mean Amber--I mean "exclusive" to the Changi airport (to Las Vegas). Like Dad says: "Strained through dirty socks." Like Mom says: “Cat piss.”

Add prosecco. Ice. The Animals and then Janis Joplin while the afternoon sun passes out of the apartment complex. It's not that bad—announce that it's not that bad!

In the taxi, watch the trees blur along the highway. Take photos in the backseat with a beautiful, iridescent screen. And upon arrival, begin counting down to 10:15.

"We have beer, we have beer," the captain is saying. Smile and nod and someone please politely sip a Heineken. Sit in the streamers whipping across the empty patio in azure, gold, and violet.

Feel the alcohol sucking up your insides, drying you out. But you're not drunk yet--you won't even get drunk.

On the internet, everyone in New York and LA has already made and broadcast their lists. They're just waiting to tell you how great it is on the other side.

For the last drink of the night (the year, this blog), move away from the Mach 30 speakers and American pop music—sit with your eyes on the edge of the wind and the palms and the pink and gray lights from Malaysia. Have some of the two Bombays on ice that they brought. (You're ordering this all wrong.)

Think, if Marian were here... Think, if Dad were here...

Don't finish before the return taxi arrives. Fuck, don't finish anything--and don’t say goodbye to anyone.

You can wake up later for fireworks.

[everytimeidrankin2014]

Changi Village, Singapore - 12/28

Cranked out, Dad said.

Not cranked. Wiped.

Not even wiped—just half-here: twisting, tropical trees.

I didn’t even feel tired.

Wind blew the hot air out to the water.

I ate flat noodles with too many seafoods. I drank Singapore Slings from tall glasses with orchids.

Slow, warm skies traveled the waves in the channel and the fronds on the shore.

Everything was familiar and jarring—a blur of white stucco, pale teals, and corals.

I was home.

We didn’t even feel tired.

[everytimeidrankin2014]

HKG to SIN - 12/28

We each order two rum and cokes with breakfast and think, God it feels good to ride in the sunshine instead of a black windowless tube. Our bodies are exhausted outside of ourselves. Morning feels hyper-real and completely fake. How can we travel this fast or handle the impact of sailing down from 35K? They added lemon slices to our drinks. I keep thinking we're about to roll into John Wayne Airport in Orange County, then down the coast, windows open to the deep blue sea. Salt will fill the air. In our defense, in New York City, it’s 9:30 pm.

[everytimeidrankin2014]

New York to Hong Kong - 12/27

At 2:00 am somewhere between NYC and Greenland, I have a cup of white wine with dinner. It’s Chardonnay; effervescent, mild, and bright like someone's backyard wedding in Georgia, and it smooths the edge. My eyes are made of lead at this elevation. I try not to freak out about the little women padding down the aisles, or the way this northern geography blows my mind. Is it possible to live somewhere surreal when everyone else acts like it’s fine? 2014 wake up call. 2014 call for sleep.

[everytimeidrankin2014]

Brooklyn, NY - 12/26

At my goodbye dinner, I drink two fancy mezcal cocktails served in highball glasses. Cilantro catches in my teeth.

America. AHHHHHHmerica.

They play Estelle and Kanye and I order chimichurri flank steak, three kinds of salsa, and braised kale. “Because you're not going to get it there,” Mitch says.

America, America, America.

Everything is about to pop.

I really like being in a booth with my family.

We’re the only white people in here.

AMERICA.

What am I doing?

[everytimeidrankin2014]

Brooklyn, NY - 12/25

On Christmas, I drank two small glasses of Malbec with dinner (slow cooker khao soi with sunflower shoots) and the beginning of Bad Santa. I poured myself a third, but threw it out after double pie sugar rush.

Around midnight, sober, we stood outside our building looking toward the East River and the Empire State Building lit up red and white. Unseasonably pleasant weather swirled across my cheeks and I thought to myself: You better enjoy this. It’s going to be a while.

I tried then not to let in the sinking sensation that had been exhausting me during the day. I had just wanted Happy Together--and maybe to raise a little hell.

I made us stay and stare, and I thought without feeling: Strange city that I can't see anymore. Strange city I hope I see again.

[everytimeidrankin2014]

Brooklyn, NY - 12/23

I can’t remember how it happened, but we ended up at Donna sitting with jeweled Christmas lights and an artificial, raging fire. It felt like home. It felt like a beginning.

I ordered a None More Black and let myself be absolutely in the moment:  Honolulu, Brooklyn, about to board a plane. We didn’t know anyone working (or, rather, they didn’t know us), so I ordered another. We texted photos to my parents and said to each other, “It will be a while,” but we were very in love in that moment. I had an Americano from the tap--that was to go with the tacos. But this isn’t just a list.

“C’mon, c’mon,” I nudged and he crawled with me a few blocks over for chicken sandwiches at Pies ‘n’ Thighs. I sipped on a glass of gruner and remembered another time when everyone looked at me cockeyed at the corner table. I didn’t care I if was foggy. But like I said, this isn’t a list.

[everytimeidrankin2014]

Brooklyn, NY - 12/22

We drank glasses of red Austrian wine* while finishing Cleopatra.

Actually, it was like drinking delicious blood!

* I should mention that this Austrian was a stand-in for one previously purchased, which Jason was told doesn’t exist. “It’s not Austrian,” they said. “We don’t have anything like that.” What I want to know is why wild boar was mentioned.

[everytimeidrankin2014]

Philadelphia, PA - 12/20

How we tore through the city:

We lined the bottles of wine on the table. “More,” we smiled. “More!” We ordered everything on the menu and the black-suited wait staff and pearl people were equally aghast (”They’re so loud,” we imagined them complaining as Marty flashed his eyes: “Fuck you.”). We even drank champagne.

In a bank vault, we were Athens, GA, with cocktails. We passed them around the table, telling each other, “Yes. Yeeeessssss.”

Maybe I should have stopped while I was ahead. We argued in the street outside a go-go bar. Or maybe I should have kept going. It felt like the middle of nowhere. “She was hot.” Mitch offered later, “I tipped her.”

We ate cheesesteaks beneath cold florescent lights. “Kush’s dad told us how to do this,” they explained and we tried not to spray the sidewalk. “There has to be cheese wiz.” No more wind, I thought. Please.

“This is our favorite bar,” Caroline said and we made ourselves cozy. But I had stopped drinking for the second time, I guess because it was making me mean. I guess because I wanted to breathe the next day. I didn’t say very much.

A $7 cab carried us up the arteries of the city, past the church steeples lit like flames, past the convenience stores crowding each block.

I shouldn’t have bitched that everyone was popped out. “I never think about it,” Caroline had answered. I felt like an asshole. (I was an asshole.)

[everytimeidrankin2014]

Brooklyn, NY - 12/19 (later)

Is it weird for us to go to their Christmas party?

No, I think it’s nice.

But we stand in the living room by the table stacked with alcohol (full, half-full, totally empty) and everyone clusters around us.

And we sit on her bed while they pass around a blunt. I hug my knees and tell the parents about Singapore. They answer: Eat, Pray, Love. And I offer, “Never read it,” and try to still shine. No avail--they were tired of talking from the beginning.

So we linger at the snack table with exhausted eyes, scarfing her French macarons and saying, “Hooooolllyyyyy shit,” as expected. And Mitch takes on everything in the kitchen that was supposed to be the second round of pho.

But it is nice to be in a Christmas situation and wear the bullet hole-ridden dress. And, this time, we don’t drink too much.

[everytimeidrankin2014]

New York, NY - 12/19

"You seem nervous," Caitlin said as I peeled off my coat at Lafayette for a last-day-of-work-fancy-lunch. "Too many weird feelings," I said. "Too much caffeine."

We talked a lot of mean shit, a lot of funny shit--alcoholics, aggression, flood-proof optimists and the like (which is the point, isn’t it? Especially with paparazzi loafing outside while waiting for Taylor Swift, dressed in a plum beret, to finish eating. "That could be you,” she smirked)--but the nicest was our discovery that both our dudes trace their families back generations upon generations. Mine in quiet, gray, soft-spoken country earth called Willow Grove. Hers: Italian, surly, full of fire, and stacked in drawers.

I liked the mellow Sancerre rouge.

[everytimeidrankin2014]

New York, NY - 12/17

“Fuck it,” I said at the Christmas party.  Everyone stood at the edges of the room making sideways glances over their margaritas. I sat at the table in the back and toasted to everything.

I was outside Barnes and Noble with a bag full of motivational speakers. I was texting Caitlin as I walked uptown in the rain.

“It’s me!” I whispered while I hid in the basement bathroom. I typed to her furiously: He’s lying to his wife about ME.

Dawn rearranged my dress and we embraced.

I was tucked up on the couch with Janaye and it was like a private party.

“I talked to his boss,” he hummed. This was after he complained about the drink he bought me. “He’s a cool guy.” I swirled the ice and downed it.

Digicomm drifted into the lobby—they surprised us.

I talked gospel with Michael and we lit up.

I was ten feet tall, but my legs weren’t supposed to show.

“Millenials love hotels like this,” he said.

I can’t name everyone.

I can’t name everything.

[everytimeidrankin2014]

New York/Brooklyn, NY - 12/16

We drank so much wine at the most ridiculous lunch at Babbo. A petit rouge, slow strings in a cascade of "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas," and a blur of travel plans to Singapore, Deutschland, and Princeton, New Jersey. We lost track of daylight and rated our favorite dishes as all of them. And with dessert, while Cindy and Cat had cappucinos, I drank a small nocino ("From California," our server smiled as she poured, meaning every word).

After dark, I met Jean, Victoria, and Suzanne at Romans. We talked of freedom, old white men, acupuncture, how to be in touch with your body, how to restart, and how to reprogram. Oppenheimer Analysis played over the dining room and I was very happy. I drank their sour special--gin, hazelnut, honey, salt, etc--and asked for a recommendation. He poured Plymouth, Lillet, and Salers (which I'd never tried before) in a highball filled with ice. It was cold, bright, and faintly smoky. I escaped again.

In the stairwell the next day, Cindy said how relieved she thought I'd feel when the week was over. "You've been carrying a weight for months now.”

[everytimeidrankin2014]

Brooklyn, NY - 12/13

I finished a quarter of a glass of red wine while I ate fancy mushroom raviolis and read the chapter where Voldemort comes back to power. Jason stood in silence on the edge of the room.

Later, after a small battle with the 7 train and too much Thai in Woodside, sidled up to the bar at Beloved, I drank two cocktails aptly called "Infante." Tequila, orgeat, lime, and nutmeg.

I was happy, buzzed, and warm during the first. Music boomed through the bar, turning from 2004 to 1998 to 1979. I thought: This is why it's nice to drink--clean, tart, candlelight bliss. But I headached on the second. During the second, I choked on my turtleneck.

"I'm just feeling cranky," Mitch sulked. "I'm just trying to make plans for when you guys go to bed in ten minutes."

"Why?" I spat on the street as Jason and I shivered, waiting for the bus. "I just want nice, easy-going nights."

[everytimeidrankin2014]

Brooklyn, NY - 12/12

Hey, so this is a pretty good red, light as hell--scraggly branches invading the label.

“If you had wild boar or something,” the woman says as Mitch and I taste it in the back of the store, “It would cut through.”

Cool, cool, we answer, thinking of the umlaut over their vowels.

Cool, cool, as we eat chipotle salsa and chips on the couch; Jason’s ground beef tacos with arugula salad.

The record spins into the next. Friday night but not nothing.

[everytimeidrankin2014]

New York, NY - 12/10

You stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine.

I don’t mean you, Dave, when we were normal and eating bibimbap in North Korea. Or when we arrived at the Ace—I flitted upward—and we drank mezcal old fashioneds at the bar. “Yes! California!” we toasted, fumes rising.

"Do iiiittt," I pushed Jay and we gulped a round. We circled the photobooth with Jean. I made her have champagne with me.

Stay in your corner. Hey.

I’m not talking about Mark, who understood at first glance and poured me buttery wine from the stash behind the DJ booth. I traded the red to Jason and Mitch.

“None of this is real,” I insisted after I had already overdone it. I stood by the column with Jean and Jay and pushed: “The best thing to do is live like you know it’s not real.”

Let me be free, okay? Keep that anchor off my neck and stay home if you gotta stay home.

[everytimeidrankin2014]

Brooklyn, NY - 12/9

I had the fever again, but at least they do a good pour at No. 7.

This was after Jason and I argued into a corner about dinner.  After we hauled the aching, 50 lb bags and a new computer into the West Fourth Street station.

My skin untangled, but I didn't unclench. I wanted more. I wanted Friday night and a long weekend somewhere else. An evening in some other, whispering city that doesn’t drive you into the ground. There was hot liquid behind my eyes.

“It’s not wrong to want acknowledgement,” Ann had shaken her head when I described the exit interview. “It’s human.”

We nibbled apple salad with crème fraîche (like dessert), a rejigged octopus recipe, and--of course--the tacos. They paired well with a big glass of acid.