absente (calling uncle ralph)

Last night, the four of us-- myself, Eve, Laurie and Daniel --went out to eat at a restaurant called Moulin Rouge for Valentine's Day. Eve had eaten there for lunch recently and recommended it for the atmosphere.

Before we went out, we congregated at the apartment of The Dynamic Duo (our pet name for Laurie and Daniel), where Eve presented me with a special Valentine's Day gift: a bottle of Absente, or "Absinthe Refined".

My eyes bulged wide. "This isn't absinthe absinthe, is it?"

"That stuff you're talking about is illegal," Eve said. "This stuff is perfectly legit."

Laurie said, "There's no wormwood in it." Technically she is correct, but according to the web link there is a bit of what is called "Southern wormwood", a less-bitter cousin to the hallucinogenic agent, in Absente.

"I know where we can get some wormwood," Daniel said, recalling a location in Southern California where it grows wild. But that would have to be for another time.

We left the bottle at their place and drove off to make our dinner reservation.


*/*


I borrowed a jacket from Daniel, in case there was some type of dress code. I've been having to dress up slightly at the job, and since I was coming straight from work I was almost formal. He let me borrow an off-white blazer, and my navy-blue shirt coupled with the mustache I've been sporting lately it made me look like a Latin-American game show host, or perhaps a Bolivian drug lord.

Upon arriving, Eve made a short disclaimer: "I've only eaten here once, for lunch. If the food sucks, it's not my fault."

"Didn't you tell me there's can-can girls here?" I asked.

"Only on the weekends. Tonight, who knows what they'll have."

The first sign of trouble was when we entered the restaurant and found that indeed, there were no can-can girls. Rather, there were two older musicians doing some cheesy lounge act, singing The Police's "Every Breath You Take" in such a manner that I had to remark with a mumble, "Yeah, they're taking the life's breath out of this song!"

We requested to be seated outside, which is always a risk because the waiters often forget to serve you properly. Our table was wobbly and unbalanced, so I offered to go underneath the table and even it out.

My head disappeared beneath the table cloth. Suddenly I felt a crunch as I moved my hand over the main post, and I was quickly back in the upright position, my face as white as a ghost.

Eve asked, "What's the matter?"

I said, "There's a snail down there."

"A snail?" Daniel was curious. Laurie was on the verge of laughing.

"A snail. I can't go back down there."

Eve almost laughed until she read my body language: tense shoulders, serious look on my face, a glint of grave terror in my eyes... I have this irrational fear of snails, slugs and mollusks-- what can I say?

"I'll take care of it," she said, and she grabbed a napkin from a neighboring table, plucked the snail from underneath, wrapped it up and left it back on the table.

"What kind of Bolivian drug lord are you?" Daniel joked.

The conversation turned to neuroses, particularly mine. I am not afraid of anything in this world, but snails make me wince. I don't know why. I think they are disgusting and useless, for sure. They repulse me.

We should've taken that as an omen, because the service was so lousy we ended up leaving after 45 minutes of waiting. We ordered pizzas from D'Amore's and went back to The Dynamic Duo's apartment.


*/*


After we feasted upon pizza, Eve showed me how to prepare the Absente. It tasted like NyQuil. I didn't feel drunk at all, but I knew I was buzzed-- this shit is 110 proof.

We all had a bit to drink from the bottle, and then Laurie busted out with some delicious coffee-flavored ice cream. This would prove to be my downfall later on, when we were back at Eve's apartment.

It seems that the Absente, the pizza, the ice cream AND the rigorous movements of our private Valentine celebration in her bed made for a bad combo in my gullet. I immediately got up, apologized for what I was about to do, then ran into the bathroom and projectile-vomited for what seemed like a short eternity.

It's been a long time since I puked that badly. Because I'm a lightweight with liquor, I am always careful to not go overboard when consuming drink. I can't recall the last time I had to call Uncle Ralph, but I'm sure it was just as humorous as last night.

Vomiting is funny. I can always laugh about it, when it's happening and afterward. My throat is sore, to be sure, but other than that I thought it was pretty amusing, my kneeling before the Porcelain God and wretching intensely, my jawbones about to bend backwards from the pressure of the steady stream of partially-digested junk food gushing out of my mouth...

Not a very romantic end to the evening, but then again it was weird from the get-go. The snail was an omen, like I said.

I still have quite a bit of Absente left. I think I will drink it in moderation next time. I kind of overdid it, but when do I ever NOT overdo it?

Before I leave you for today, here's a list of vomiting euphemisms that I find to be hilarious. Next time you get so shit-faced that you can't help but "read the toilet", just remember this list and you'll have a grand time of your vomiting experience.

Godspeed.