Sunday, February 12, 2012

268. A Swing and a Miss

I woke up the next morning feeling awesome. Probably because I was still drunk from the night before. I vaguely remembered Cayden waking me up in the middle of the night to convince me to move from the dining room floor to my bedroom. For whatever reason, I was dead set on sleeping next to to dog crates even though the dogs were sleeping in Joyce and Joey's room.

My hangover didn't kick in until midday. We were standing in line at Top Golf waiting to hear how long the wait would be. I went from feeling awesome to awful in a matter of minutes. My head was throbbing, my stomach was queasy and I felt like the temperature in the room had just risen to 200 degrees. I fanned myself to fight it off. I was proud to say that I had made it to the age of 26 without throwing up the day after drinking. (The day OF drinking is another story.) I planned to keep that trend going.

"Do you want to put your name on the wait list?" the brunette behind the counter asked. "It looks like it's going to be about three hours."

I nearly threw up on her lap. A three-hour wait to play golf? No, thanks. Pretty sure Kim Kardashian had gotten married and divorced in less time than that. Besides, half the fun of Top Golf was getting drunk while you played. I couldn't even stand the thought of taking a sip of anything but water or Pepto, so waiting three hours at the bar was out of the question. Was 3 p.m. too early to call it a night?

"No, thanks," Joyce told the lady behind the counter and we turned back to our group to deliver the bad news. Joey took a deep breath and winced when he saw the look on our faces. He knew it was bad news. He'd been looking forward to our Top Golf outing for weeks. I, on the other hand, had never been to Top Golf, and I hadn't swung a golf club since 5th grade, a which point I swore I'd never do it again. I hated doing anything I wasn't good at, which is why I quit ballet and dance before I was 12. An overweight preteen with absolutely no rhythm does not a good ballerina make.

"Let's go bowling instead," Joyce suggested. "There's a bowling alley around the corner."

I rarely ever turned down a game of bowling. Even in my hungover state, my competitive side was already trying to decide if I should go for an 11-pound ball or a 12-pound ball.

"It's a shame," Cayden said. "I was really looking forward to swinging the club."

Rae nodded. She'd brought her own set of golf clubs, as did Joyce and Joey. It was apparent that I was the least gung-ho about the golfing adventure.

"We can always come back tomorrow,"I suggested.

We all turned and made our way to the parking lot. Excited by the promise of bowling, I ran and jumped onto Cayden's back, catching him off guard. I immediately regretted it when I almost threw up on his shoulder. I slid back to the ground and bent over with my hands on my knees in an attempt to fight off nausea.

"Are you OK, baby?" Cayden asked.

"I'm not feeling so hot," I said.

"Either am I," Rae said.

"Ditto that," Joyce chimed in.

"It was those damn Sambuca shots, I tell you!" I said, playfully jabbing Cayden in the shoulder. I thought about suggesting that we all go home and take naps before the OU Bowl game. I think we were all thinking it, but none of us wanted to be the first one to say it out loud. We all wanted to pretend like we could fight off our hangovers like we did in our college days. We couldn't.

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