My shot glass was tipsy before I even got started.
There are few things I would change about my undergrad experience, but I realize that it was pretty atypical. So, for better or worse, I've been making up for lost time in Chicago with hedonistic antics that most people (except for the people I hung out with) cover in college. I must say, the stories have gotten a bit more entertaining. (People making out with two guys at once vs Friday night Duffield study party, which would you rather hear about?) At any rate, in the last couple weeks, I have acknowledged the end of my political aspirations with the following activities:
Chocolate Cake Shot
- 1 part Frangelico (hazelnut liqueur), 1 part vodka, shoot the mixture, bite a slice of sugared lemon
- I was quite skeptical that this was going to taste anything like chocolate or cake, since its components contain none of those ingredients. But shockingly enough, it tasted like chocolate cake, even evoking the floury texture of cake somehow! My mind was boggled.
- Ideal for people who prefer chocolate Yoohoo to alcohol
- Vodka shot, splash of triple sec, bite a slice of sugared lemon
- This was lemony...and vodka-y, as you might expect. After the chocolate cake shot, I was a little disappointed that I wasn't tasting the crystallized crunch of a lemon drop.
- Best suited for girls' night parties and scurvy pirates
- 2/3 glass of Guinness, drop in a shot of Bailey's, chug before the mixture curdles on you. The chunky film left on the bottom of the glass is a tad disturbing, then I thought about what was going on inside my stomach.
- Guinness is not as carbonated as many other beers I've tried, so it was actually pretty easy to chug. Having said that, I don't know how everyone else manages to finish their drink in half the time that it takes me; I was told I need more practice. Be careful not to splash the contents of the glass as you drop in the shot. The drink itself tastes similar to chocolate milk.
- Perfect for your 7-year-old's birthday party. Just kidding, we would want to give them Benadryl instead. Irish car bombs have a certain fratty cachet to them, since they are most commonly consumed for St. Patrick's Day, so perhaps this should be reserved for Man Night. On the other hand, I thought the Irish car bomb was a lot smoother than your average sake bomb, which tastes like turpentine. Maybe someone should inform all the freshman chicks at Miyake to try car bombs instead.
- There were dozens of flavor combinations at Samah Lounge, and we were at a total loss as to what to choose. Originally, Katherine wanted to spring for Fruit Loops (rose, orange) since that's what she had last time, but then I was persuaded by our server's recommendation of Autumn Night (vanilla, rose, lavender, something else I'm forgetting).
- With thoughts of Bill Clinton running through my mind ("I didn't inhale!"), I grabbed the hose and took a deep breath. A pleasant floral scent filled the air, warm and mysterious. I exhaled a few smoke tendrils and leaned against the wall. No wonder they never get anything done in the Middle East! Towards the end though, the hookah became quite harsh and started to burn the back of my throat. This had better not do any permanent damage to my voice. Also, for the rest of the night, I kept smelling vague whiffs of Autumn Night. I swear the Oak Street bend of the Lakeshore Path smells exactly like Autumn Night.
- I've heard differing reports on the amount of nicotine in hookah, from "It's like .001 mg!" to "You split hookah between 3 people? That is a lot of hookah.", but overall the impact is slight. I felt a little more mellow than before, but part of me thinks that laying on the floor with cushions would be relaxing anyway, so why bother with the hookah? However, there is a particular brand of bonding that comes from communally sharing and passing the hookah while sprawled on pillows. Next time I have an Alice in Wonderland party, there will be hookah.
- After numerous people skeptically told me that "you never get high the first time," I must say that if that's the case, you're probably doing it wrong. And there is no shame in that because lighting the bowl takes some practice. Not surprisingly, I was pretty terrible at figuring out when to cover the hole, when to inhale, when to move in the lighter, how to even work a lighter...all this mostly resulted in a massive attack of coughing, as if I'd swallowed hot sand. I would like to note that the Californians were by far the most adept at this process.
- Never mind hookah, this puts the M in Mellow. I can see why the stereotypical group of stoners is sprawled semi-comatose on couches while listening to Jimi Hendrix. (Although, me being me, I was up at 7 am like clockwork the next morning.) Have you ever wanted the superpower to freeze time? It was as though the clock had stopped ticking, and I could move around normally, push children out of the way of trains, or loot a bank...but I was too comfortable to actually go anywhere. Even the most ardent Type-A personalities will turn into a contented bag of mostly water. On my way home, I was curiously unaffected by the (miserable, extremely windy and rainy) weather. Though sans hat, I felt no cold and despite a ten-minute wait for the train, I felt no impatience.
- Generally, one of the more pressing questions for neophytes is how to know if you're high. It sounds cliche, but you will definitely know when you're there. For me at least, the effects hit unexpectedly. All of the sudden, it felt like the blood vessels in my head had expanded, my heartbeat was drumming in my ears, and it was impossible to focus. I'd start a sentence and then lose my train of thought before finishing it. Reading was hopeless. Terrible jokes were greeted with uproarious laughter. Even if you had the presence of mind to realize how unfunny the remark was, you still couldn't stop laughing at everyone else who thought it was amusing. (For good measure, I watched some Aqua Teen Hunger Force and didn't find it significantly funnier than when sober.) Most interesting is the way your senses heighten and exaggerate random inputs. As Rolling Stones wafted from the speakers, I could feel heavy vibrations of bass, amplified like Libe on Slope Day. Then, the sensation faded and I started pondering the vivid colors of my shirt. Man, they were bright! Up till that point, I wasn't experiencing anything differentiable from an alcohol buzz, but this last step catapults the experience over booze. Though my short-term memory was impaired, the effects were less severe than with alcohol and cognition was mostly intact, just fragmented and distracted. If only I could have recorded my internal monologue, I might have generated a great new contribution to literature.
- Despite my state of complete chillaxation, my heart was pounding violently as if I'd run a 10k. Other physical effects include dry mouth, bloodshot eyes and dry eyes, though the latter may have simply been due to the smoke in the room. I kept thinking how great some water would be; too bad there was no running water in this apartment's kitchen. I was also semi-seriously joking about protecting my valuable vocal chords; for that reason alone, I would not make this a regular practice.
- Recommended for when you want to really explore your Led Zeppelin collection or need to write that philosophy paper
- Just joshing, I would never do that! Besides, as we all know, bad things happen when Chinese people smoke opium.
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