Where were you when you had the worst hangover of your life?
I turned 32 this week so I have been out frolicking with wild abandon for my birthday festivities (narcissist – moi?).
The problem with all the fun I am having is that it takes its toll. My eyes hurt. My face hurts. My ribs inexplicably hurt. My lungs are sooty with nicotine and my brain is pickled in a puddle of Champagne.
None of this low level pain compares to the time I got hammered in Cuzco, Peru. It was the day we went to Macchu Pichu and I was on high from the wonder of it all. Our group went to some divey bar called Mama Africas where people sold cocaine in the toilets. There was a band on stage encouraging everyone to engage in South American line dancing and the bartenders free poured vodka into your mouth when you bought a drink.
Oh what a night.
I don’t remember getting home.
What I do remember is the synapse crushing agony I woke up to. It turns out that drinking at high altitudes can really mess you up.
I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t move. I prayed for a merciful death.
The second most horrendous hangover I have suffered was at the hands of a booze cruise in Zambia. Rule No 1: If you are planning to do something uncharacteristically active like white water rafting down the Zambesi River at the crack of dawn, DO NOT GET LEGLESS THE NIGHT BEFORE. Seems like an obvious rule but when you’re on a boat at sunset, spotting hippos and making friends with cute Italian boys, these things slip your mind.
Climbing out of the gorge the next day was the single most harrowing exercise experience of my life (and I am not a fan of exercise at the best of times).
So tell me, friends, when have you gotten drunk and regretted it overseas? Where were you and what did you drink?
Llao Llao rice wine!
There are a few too many legless nights to remember from when I lived in Japan. Being able to buy beer from vending machines and giant jugs of wine is not as good as it seems.
But possibly my worst hangover was after copious amounts of alcohol and one too many foot-long cocktails in Las Vegas. The drinking was fun, but waking up in a not-so-great hotel room with air-conditioning that made the wall vibrate, plus having to cope with 47 degree heat is really really unpleasant.
I knew it was your birthday you’ve remained inscrutably quiet about it madam! There should be street parades and people jumping out of cakes to celebrate it!
I believe I recall something about such a booze cruze in Zambia. Too much fun! But you did not throw your camera in the river, so you must not have too badly off, dear Em! Perhaps you should have done the hang glider like we did the next day…far less stressful.
Russia! Waking up in a lot of pain in a log cabin in Listvyanka, Sibera. A few quiet beers and dinner turned into 3 bottles of vodka in the very local and very odd night club that allegedly, for us, did not have a toilet. And in -10 temperatures we were sent outside to pee…a Russian joke perhaps?
The other Vang Vieng in Loas…need I say more.