Yay, I’m on Glass Number 2 of Wine.
And as the blog is like a fun easy-going job, I started thinking about other times I was drunk while working.
There are two.
They were both accidental.
This one is about the time I was drunk while working in Lentra.
So I was in college.
It was a Saturday night and someone was celebrating their 21st.
The plan was to go out for food and then on to a bar.
I had work at 8am the next morning so I decided I’d go to the meal and then head home.
I’d only started drinking about two months beforehand, so I was still underestimating the power of alcohol.
And also underestimating the power of ice-cream-based cocktails.
After two of those babies, I was easily convinced to come out for one drink.
Which turned into three.
And a broken pint glass.
Not surprisingly, I was then convinced it would be a great idea to go back to a friend’s apartment where the party was continuing.
Sure it’d be NO problem just popping over the work from her place the next morning.
Her place that was on the other side of Dublin.
And took a bus and a tram ride taking 90mins to get to work the next morning.
The Boy (who was still only Boy at this stage) was the only one working with me the next morning.
He was already sorting out the newspapers when I got there.
“HEEELLLLLLLOOOOOOOO” I shouted at him when I got in there, ruffling his then-gelled hair and proceeded into the staff room where I unsuccessfully attempted to hang my bag and coat up.
Turned out my 2 hours of sleep wasn’t even nearly enough to rid my body of the alcohol I’d consumed.
It took an hour to put the papers together with their magazines as I thought it was hilariously good fun to lie on top of the newspapers, throw the magazines Boy was trying to work with across the shop and continue to stand up and half-fall over.
I think I may have also sorta dismantled a shelf at one point.
Thankfully we never got many customers at that hour on a Sunday morning.
Bless Boy, though; he was so patient.
Although mainly amused, because I was famous for my sobriety and refusal to drink up until this point.
When I retired to the deli to make up mass quantities of sandwich mixes – Chicken and Bacon with Mayo, Chicken with Tikka Mayo, Egg and Mayo and Tuna and Sweetcorn with Mayo – the tiredness was beginning to set in.
When Boy came to check on me a couple of hours later, he found me in a crouched position behind a free-standing storage thingy.
Half an hour later, he had to pull me off the deli floor and tell me it wasn’t the best place to sleep.
I like to think that was the moment he fell in love with me.
Once I’d sobered up, instead of feeling mildly horrified, I was actually just really proud of myself.
Still not sure why.
Maybe it’s because I broke out of my Good Girl persona and became Good Girl Who Can’t Handle Her Drink.
I felt it made me cooler.
College turns people into idiots.