I Can't Believe It's Not Javex! the drink that should have killed me...

by far, the most drunk i have ever been, and likely ever will be is
contained below. i may leave names of friends out completely, except
for linz, as i honestly cannot remember exactly who was with us.
i do know that it started with five of us. one of them was linz.

there is one friend in particular who will be referenced more than
the others as he was integral to my hideously awful attempt at being a person.
for the sake of anonymity, i will not use his real name, but what
we called him for the night, but abreviated: "PDA"
the "PD" stands for "Pimp Daddy", as he was fliffin'!

Me and linz were hanging out at a coffee house enjoying a hot cup
and conversation with a few others who frequented the place with us,
when the door bursts open. this grabs our attention as this is not how
one normally opens the door to the coffee place. it was early evening.
the whole place turns to see what's up. it is PDA. he begins pointing
at us, one by one, and stating loudly "YOU, YOU, YOU... YOU, AND YOU! LET'S
GO!"

without knowing at all what is going on, but responding to his stern, we
leave our coffees at our table, and follow PDA out the door.
he leads us down the street, and around the corner, and we continue
down the next street.

linz: "what's up?"
PDA: "THERE'S NO TIME!"
me: "can you tell us while we walk?"
PDA: "NO! THERE'S NO TIME!!!"

the five of us obey, as he seems to be serious. we hadn't seen him for a few months
as he was away for work, and we were not sure what he might have gotten
himself into. i just hoped he wasn't inciting a brawl. thankfully, it was not
a brawl at all, but a bar, that he was bringing us to. a rather empty bar, on
a monday night just past 7:00. We enter O'leary's pub, and he tells the bartender
he'll be right back, and leads us to the patio section, and instructs us to sit.
we do. he leaves frantically, and comes back a few minutes later with two pitchers
of beer. he tells us to leave them. we are confused, but we leave them alone.
the bartender comes a few minutes later with two more pitchers.
PDA insists we still not touch. ok. we don't. there is still no speaking.
we are all a little worried that something is wrong with him.
the bartender comes back again with two more pitchers and then again
with 6 glasses.
we wait.
PDA: "THERE! NOW WE ALL HAVE ONE! LET'S DRINK!"

we then pour beer and begin asking questions. he finally lets us in
on what is going on. He had gone away for three months to work in a remote
location where he told us the town slogan should be "A WHOLE LOTTA NOTHIN'!"
he was making a high wage to do this, but had nowhere to spend it, and now
he wanted to have some fun. we offered to chip in on the drinks, but he
insisted we accept whatever he spent on us as a gift. we drink.
his insisting became yelling "PAH!!" and pushing his hand into our faces for
the rest of the night if we did not accept his offer to pay for everything. he
was taking his friends out for drinks. his treat. that is that.
one of us: "well, we don't want you to spend your who..."
PDA: "PAH!!!"

PDA keeps checking his watch like he's waiting for the new year or something, but
it was summer, and nowhere close to midnight, so we knew it wasn't that.
we asked a few times, but he changed the subject, and told us to drink up.
we all drink and chat for almost an hour, when he finally tells us, again, "IT'S TIME!"
we ask him if his water broke, and other jokes, and he yells, "FINISH YER DAMN DRINKS! IT'S
TIME!"

we finish our pitchers as quickly as we can manage, and PDA runs off the patio and around the
corner, flailing his arms wildly.
we follow our manic friend to a place called "gargoyles". it is no longer a bar, thank fuck!
they had a drink special on mondays. we knew what was happening. sort of.

Ten cent draught: (because i can type it faster, i may begin to spell it "draft")
you get in a lineup and give the bartender 40 cents, and he serves you 4 single draft at once.
this goes on for an hour, and then raises to 50 cents, then up a quarter each hour after
that until it becomes full price, which was 1.75 for a single draft.
you will see this drink special on some later blogs when i remember what happened.

we all get into the lineup as we know the drill. we have done this many times.
PDA stands with us for a moment, then says "NO! WE ARE NOT DOING THIS! WE ARE GOING
UPSTAIRS TO BUY REAL BEER AND LOOK DOWN ON THE REST OF THESE DIRTBAGS!..."
and off he goes. we follow.

he brings us past the dancefloor and up the stairs to the other bar, where he goes
to the bartender and hands him a 10.
PDA: (introduces himself)"we are going to be your best customers tonight! please make
sure the bouncers take good care of us!"
bartender: "you got it! what are you having?"
PDA: "first, i'd like you to put that ten into your pocket!"
bartender: "thank you. what can i get you?"

PDA orders us a few rounds of bottled beer, and keeps looking down at the lineup
downstairs, occasionally saying things like "look at all those douchebags! we could
be THEM!"
normally, we ARE them. we take turns guarding the table, hitting the dancefloor
a bit, and coming back up. we are all very much sauced!
i am at somewhere around a full pitcher, and 3 or 4 bottled beer at this point.
PDA begins asking "WHO'S DOING A SHOT WITH ME?" everyone declines.
PDA insists "SOMEONE is doing a shot with me!"
PDA"STEVE WILL DO A SHOT WITH ME!!!"
me: "okay, i'll do it, but let me pay."
PDA: "PAH!"
he runs up to the bar ahead of me and pre-pays for our shots while he
waits for me to shamble over.

i get to the bar and he exclaims "look at you. you're all repressed! GIVE THIS MAN
A BLOWJOB! i'll have one too!"
this drink, usually referred to as a girly shot, is bailey's irish cream and kahlua.
PDA and i are normally not shot people, so he was going easy on me.
PDA: "that was over too fast for something so delicious! two more, but make
them biglier!"
bartender: "okay. the full drink costs..."
PDA: "PAH!!!" (yes, he even started doing this to the bartender)

PDA had been tipping big all night, so he got away with being an ass.
we drank full glass blowjobs and got a beer to wash them down with.
he decided that i needed a bigger drink. i told him i didn't need any
more drinks, whatsoever.
PDA: "PAAAAAAHHHH!!! i'll find you a bigger one after a bit. enjoy your beer!"

i did enjoy my beer, and hit the dancefloor again, until my last couple drinks
kicked in a little better, and i started getting wobbly. i fell twice that i recall,
and bumped a few people, so i decided it was best to get back to our table.
i had a hard time up the stairs, so one of the bouncers helped me, and reminded me
where we were sitting. i suspect PDA tipped the bouncers at some point also. i should
have been led to an exit.
i get halfway to where our table is when i lose my equilibrium completely and fall onto
a neighboring table full of girls. i knocked over the table as well as all of their drinks,
landing in one of their laps. i think they would have been more mad about their drinks had
i not made them laugh when i started yelling "IT'S RAINING MEN!!!"
PDA runs over yelling "DON'T HURT HIM! I DID THIS TO HIM! I'LL REPLACE YOUR DRINKS!"
he did replace their drinks and the bouncer who helped me up the stairs came over to
see if the ladies were ok. they accepted the drinks, told the bouncer they were not mad
at us, and he (bouncer)told PDA that normally, he would kick a person out after that display.
PDA thanks him for letting me stay, and they shake hands.

i'm not sure if it was mine or not, but when i finally made it back to our table, i had a beer
that i started sipping on slowly. i was ashamed of myself, but drunk enough to forget that
very quickly. PDA keeps taking my beer from me to see if it's empty yet. he just takes it
out of my hand, holds it up to his face and puts it back. i knew what was going on. sort of.

we hobble back to the bar where there appears to be a lineup. they all move out of our way.
they had come to check out our antics. word was getting around that we were cracking up the
bartender and that PDA had been buying random people random shots all night. this did not
surprise me at all.

bartender: "back for that bigger drink?"
PDA: "yes! no more of that shittly littly glass!"
bartender: "how about this one?" (single draft glass)
PDA: "bigger."
bartender: "do you know how this is going to ..."
PDA: "PAAAHH!"
bartender: "this one?" (double draft glass)
PDA: "bigger."
bartender: "okay, but this is going to c...."
PDA: "PAAAAAHHHHH!!!"
bartender: "....?"(big beer stein)
PDA: "....... not bad..... how about THAT ONE!" (he is pointing behind the bartender at a
shelf containing a giant plastic mcDonald's cup. the big ones that have hockey players on them

and shit like that, and you can collect them. they are HUGE!)
bartender: "... oh, no, that's not one of our cups. that's just leftover from one of our
bouncers' lunch this afternoon."
PDA: "we'll take it!"
bartender: "that could get really pricey, boys!"
PDA: "PAAAAAAH!"
bartender: "okay"

He washes the cup, and a crowd gathers to see what's going into this gigantic drink.
PDA says "i don't want ANYTHING in this cup that isn't booze!"
the bartender scoops ice into the cup.
PDA: "NO! POUR THAT FUCKIN' ICE OUT!"
bartender: "i have to charge more without the..."
PDA: "PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH"
bartender: "are you..."
PDA: "PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!!"

so, the bartender pours ice out into the sink and sets the gigantic cup on the bar, and
motions for us to choose what we're putting into the thing...
our crowd gathers closer to see what our choices are.
PDA begins pointing randomly at bottles, and switching every so often.
our crowd would count along the shots.
i don't have any recollection what exactly was in this drink. i do recall
there being something like 12 shots of tequilla, and i know there were mint shnapps,
but the rest is a mystery. PDA demanded it be filled to the rim! it was. we could
not lift it off the bar without spilling it, so the first few sips had to be hovered.
PDA had one sip to see what it tasted like, and assured me that it was somehow delicious!
he also declined sharing any more of it with me as per this statement:
PDA: "i just want to taste it, and to have the satisfaction of having bought my friend
the most expensive drink anyone has ever had in this retched place!"

the drink was, to my surprise as well, in fact, delicious! the overwhelming tequilla
tremors were quickly covered up by the schnapps, and some sort of liquers that seemed
to be protecting me from instantly redecorating the bar with my stomach lining.
i remember the first few sips semi-vividly, then nothing.

everything further, up until the point of my somehow surviving, are recounted from others
that were there. i do not remember a single thing from here on, until the part where i
woke up. i truly believe i should not be alive. here's what i was told happened next:

apparently, i made several attempts at talking to other patrons at the bar, falling each time,
but not spilling a drop of my new best friend. i am told i guarded it like it was the holy

grail.
i cared less about bruising my ass, legs, whatever else.
people kept helping me up, but the bouncers carried me(literally) back to my seat.
they asked my friends to keep me at the table and to get me home safely soon.
i was then explained that i continuously slumped further in my chair as i made several
attempts at speaking to PDA. it is speculated that i was trying to thank him for the evening,
though i was not able to formulate any actual words. so, i grunted and gestured for a while
before giving up, at which point i made it back to the floor. well, half of me. i am told
that i managed to balance partly on my tilted chair, and partly propped on my elbow of my
non-drink hand while i finished the last drop, then tried to lick and suck more drops out of
the cup. yes, i was in fact, licking the cup at this point!

the bartender that had taken very good care of us all night came over to check on me, and
laughing anounced that they had written down the contents of our expeditious elixor, and

thought
it only appropriate to let me name it. i, still unable to speak, and still licking at the
inside of the cup, did not respond. PDA announced that the drink is called "I CAN'T BELIEVE
IT'S NOT JAVEX!"
and so it was. until the closing of Gargoyles two years later, above the bar were the
words "gargoyles' most expensive drink: I can't believe it's not javex - $54.50 per cup"
they put this dead center above all the other drinks. PDA was quite proud.

my friends trippled up to help carry a very floppy steve down the stairs and out the door
to a cab. it would seem that the cab driver would not take me home unless someone came with
me. none of friends believed they could manage alone, so PDA and linz took on the task of
propping me up between my screen door and the wooden door to my place, ringing the doorbell,
and fleeing before my now angry roomates open the door to my deadlike body crashing onto the
floor of our hallway. they carried me up the stairs and dragged me into my room.

the following, i remember. mostly.:
i woke up sometime in the early evening the nex day. at least, it might have been the next
day. i'm not entirely certain on that one. my nose was bleeding profusely, and i ruined
a blanket. my pillowcase was fine, as i hadn't made it that far. my torso, head, and one
arm were on the bed, the rest of me kneeling on the floor like i'm waiting for my beheading.
i felt the swell. not a good kind of swell either. the very bad kind. i made it as far as
my garbage can, about a foot from where i was kneeling and groped around for some plastic

grocery bags while i hurled most of my insides into the trash. i had just managed to tie
that bag up before starting on the second, which i almost filled. i grabbed a shirt, i think
it was a shirt, from my bedroom floor to clean off my puke laden face of its current

viscosity. deciding that the shirt was now ownership of the drink, i added it to the grocery

bag
and tied it up. i could smell and taste nothing but this drink for roughly two weeks!
holy shit!

surprised to be alive,
-Sleeve-