I love drunk people. In fact, I love drunk people more than I love drinking. They are so fun to watch as they express their undying love (I love you man), explain the higher concepts of creation (God is like wow) and share their most valued advice (Don’t ever get out of acting, look what happened to me).
I recently had back-to-back encounters with drunks and felt so blessed to be a part of their public appearances. See I like the happy, fun people who drink, may feel a bit sick the next day, but don’t really have a problem with the bottle -- just a minor flirtation. We have all been there whether we admit it or not, and selective memory is the perfect excuse for those situations we would rather forget.
The first lucky draw was at an awards banquet. I had my share of free margaritas and was dwelling on the buzz, but by no definition had I progressed yet to soused. However, when I went to the bathroom I was spared nothing of the performance from an up-and-coming actress and what she thought was her moment on the Tyra show. I learned a lot about this young lady as I selfishly stayed in the stall listening to her eloquent advice about why an 11-year-old actress should stay an actress.
“I was like you. I still am. I’m young and beautiful and talented like you and I threw it all away for three years. I was a model too and I’m 21, but I’ll be 22 on September 12 and you could be like me.” I imagined the mother’s face smiling in bitter horror as this washed-up starlet proceeded to dictate the destiny of her talented offspring. It continued for about 5 minutes with constant repeats about age and the horrors of drinking and smoking. “You should never smoke or drink like I do, but I am 21 and will be 22 on September 12, but I started smoking and even though I am gorgeous and talented like you I shouldn’t smoke or drink because it is ugly.” And so forth. I was grabbed from my lulling buzz to record these moments so I could document them here and to share with my partner in crime (who chooses to remain anonymous).
He later filled me in that the said drunk, but gorgeous and talented model was the trophy fiancée of an older (way older by the looks of him) producer who seemed to be on a roll during this low-level Oscars. The hint showcased that she had been a teen model who posed (very exposed) on the grounds of her now-partner’s beach-front home. They struck up a relationship, him being very wealthy and her being very sexy and young, that apparently was meant to last, for a year or two. By the look of the rock on her finger, she must have other talents that she didn’t share with the preteen wonder in the ladies’ room.
Shortly after that I had another drunk chick encounter on the other side of the spectrum. The setting was more rustic and the party girl was a tad bit older, by about 40 years I would guess, but they held the same attitude of being sexy, sassy and sauced. Now I make no judgments as I proceed on with years, but I know when to stop and who to trust when it comes to dropping shots down my gullet. Vodka can be evil to those who haven’t learned the tricks the Russians have known for years, it is an acquired talent and one to hold on to hard. Plus drink it straight as a sip, such as a martini, so you know the raw alcohol feel of this luscious elixir. It is really just a sign of mutual respect for all those involved.
This lady did not respect the clear liquid and it bit her in the ass, but not before she expressed her undying love for a homosexual friend, her grievance at his homosexuality and her eventual deep sadness for not being born a gay man. Her shared intellect brought to light that he was the smartest man she ever met, she was the nicest man she ever met and that she would rock his world, if only given the chance.
I felt a bit of pity for her, while once again remembering all that transpired as I switched to water to cleanse my databanks for this documentation. I went to get her some water and when I returned I found that her and her “hopefully one day I can change you” lover were gone. In their absence it was explained to me that she had gone from the “I love you, mans” to the “My life is horrible, old, fat, ugly, yada yada yada.” I’m glad I missed that.
I don’t mean any disrespect with these observations, but feel thankful to not be either of these women. I like to drink, but not in anger or sadness, I am a happy drunk. I am thankful though that as a lesson, I was given the chance to see low self-esteem and alcohol paired up once again and the humor it can provide for those of us outside of the vomit projection range.
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