I am, in the popular argot, a cheap drunk.  A Really. Cheap. Drunk.

At Wellesley, every year the juniors put on a show.  My freshman year, the Junior Show included the line "It takes more than two drinks to change a Wellesley woman's mind."

Not in my case.  All it takes is two drinks.  Unless...

One of those drinks is the "Corpse Reviver " at the British Banker's Club in Menlo Park, California. In that case, it only takes one.

I was at the BBC this evening meeting a friend of my housemate, the Resident Shrink. I was planning to order at the most two drinks.  The time before this, when I had gone out drinking, I had had two rum and cokes and had barely noticed them.  (Which could be why I lost the game of Trivial Pursuit that evening (lack of enough alcohol) but that's another story...)  So I figured I would be okay, right?

I ordered the Corpse Reviver because it looked interesting and had absinthe in it.  How can you resist a drink with absinthe in it?

I drank it down.  It was easy to drink, tasting faintly like lemon and licorice.  (I know that sounds like an awful combination, but work with me here.)  It was decent, but on the second round I ordered my standard Mai Tai.

I had taken barely a sip of Mai Tai when I knew I was in serious trouble.  As in, "I am slurring my words and I have only had one drink" trouble. I excused myself and headed to the bathroom, staggering a bit and definitely holding onto the rail on the way up the stairs.

But then, I had this Mai Tai.  What to do? I did what anyone half drunk would do.  I finished that one, too.  At this point, I was having trouble walking, period, let alone up or down the stairs.

The Rocket Scientist and the Resident Shrink showed up.  Fortunately, the restaurant where we were having dinner was within easy walking distance, and the Rocket Scientist held my arm the whole way.  I refused sangria, even though the sangria at Iberia Restaurant in Menlo Park is very good.  I settled for a coke.

I managed to make it through dinner. At the end, I succumbed to temptation and had a glass of sangria because, hey it was there and we needed to finish off the pitcher and the Rocket Scientist couldn't have any more because somebody had to drive us home and it sure as hell wasn't going to be me.

I have been assured that I was in fact charming and not at all embarrassing, which is good.  I am sitting here dreading what I will feel like in the morning.  All of which means...

Next time, avoid ordering any drinks with really scary names.