Now, Joe and I have something of a ritual--I order a glass of water and a shot of..."What do I want a shot of?" whereupon he suggests something, which means that in very slow fashion I am working my way through the world of liquor. And this is generally normal and fine, except that tonight Joe laughed an evil laugh, and said "You have to try this!" and that, boys and girls, is how I found myself staring at a slowly melting sugar cube over the top of a double shot of absinthe.
Turns out that I can, in fact, slam a double shot of absinthe. I am somewhat proud of this.
Also turns out that slamming a double shot of absinthe leaves me absolutely obliterated, particularly on top of that shot of bourbon from the first bar.
I haven't been that drunk since I first discovered tequila.
It took several hours and two or three long staggering walks through thirty degree weather in downtown Raleigh, in search of the car, another bar, and the car again, before I sobered up. I spent the tail end of it in a gay nightclub arguing about quantum physics (which may have been a sort of sobriety test--if I could keep up my end of the discussion of string theory as applied to Cyclops's laser vision, I was probably okay to drive.)
I am so not looking forward to tomorrow morning...