I'm not a big drinker.  In fact, I really haven't been since my mid-20s.  Still, there are times that simply call for a large intake of alcohol.  For me, that time came today.  Over the weekend, I started to feel the promise of an impending cold and this morning, that promise was realized.  I reluctantly took a shot of DayQuil (I say "reluctantly", because, for all its claims of being non-drowsy, it still throws me for a real loop) and set about my work day. 

Cough syrup, to me, is like an opiate.  I don't know what this says about my physiology, but it causes me to walk around in a fog, much like I'm viewing footage shot by a video camera, rather than experiencing my own life.  It alters my mood--often drastically.  Sometimes, it causes me to hallucinate.  This may be great at home, where I can lay down on my bed and watch the colors, but it's not so great on the job.  After about an hour at work, it became abundantly clear that I wasn't going to hack it and I left after about 4 hours.  With a miserable cold hanging on and the DayQuil mercifully dissipating, I left work and headed to the liquor store.  Once upon a time, it was suggested to me that a certain libation called Joaquin's Rock 'n' Rye would "burn that cold out".  Well, it should have, I found out, since it was basically grain alcohol.  I later found out that R'n'R was so sickeningly, syrupy sweet, that It replaced my head cold with nausea.  This time, I thought I would go with something strong, but that I know I can stomach.  My choice: cherry liquer.  I love cherries--my favorite fruit, without a doubt.  Also, the bottle said 45% alcohol by volume.  That'll do.

The transaction at the counter was memorable:

Clerk: "Gonna have a big time, are ya?"

Me:     "Nah.  I'm going to use it for medicinal purposes."

Clerk: "Have you tried Rock 'n' Rye?"

Me;     "Yeah...Didn't really agree with me."

Clerk:  "It works;  just lettin' ya know."

Me:      "Thanks.  I'll see if this works."

Clerk:   "Okay.  Good luck with that."

Me:      "I'm sure it's just a minor viral thing..."

Clerk:  (Looking down at bottle)  "No.  Good luck with that."

                                                        ****

By the time I reached my house, I couldn't breathe through my nose.  To make things worse, I could barely breathe at all, and what breathing I could manage was belabored and very wheezy.  It was time to break out the 750 ml. liquid cough drop. 

By my estimation, there's no better time for me to to get righteously soused than when I'm woefully sick.  I mean, I'm already miserable.  What are the chances that getting drunk would make me feel any worse.  Often, it kind of makes it more bearable.  After getting a few in me, I'm more relaxed and better able to sleep through my sickness, plus, the alcohol does tend to cut through the congestion and open my airways.  I'm generally a happy drunk, too, which doesn't hurt. 

Sex Pistols guitarist Steve Jones described his inebriated state during his band's infamous interview on the British Today television show as "having a good ol' time".   By the time I was 3/4 through my bottle of hooch, I, too was having a "good ol' time", but I was strangely not in the disposition to sleep.  That was the main point of doing what I did.  At least my buzz took a bit of the edge off of the sickness.  I watched DVDs on the bed.  Oddly enough, in my state, the movies I watched were all Australian:  You and Your Stupid Mate, Wolf Creek and Danny Deckchair--nevermind what a bizarre triple feature that amounts to, especially in that order.  My awesome little cat, Iggy, recognized I was in ill sorts and dutifully stood guard over me in the bedroom.  That was pretty cool, I have to say.  He obviously thinks highly of me.  

As I post this, my buzz has faded and I'm still undeniably sick.  All that remains for me to do is drink some Gatorate, take a vitamin and half an aspirin and hope that I'm not sick for different reasons tomorrow.  Next time I decide to get waxed-down while I'm sick, I'm going to go for the Jaeger.  God help me.