Slowdown up Ahead?

Last night was Selina’s birthday party at the Class Bar. I was struggling with whether to attend or not, as all I wanted to do was to lie in my bed and stare up at the ceiling and cry after an all-night bender with Eddy and Alex and friends. It had been a while since I had partied this hard, and there was no holding back: 6 bottles of Chivas at Babyface, 1 bottle of black label at Guandii, and then two kegs at Cash Box (btw, I will never invite a drunk Coco to “the Box” at 4 am ever again). I woke up shivering with a raging sore throat (coughed up some blood in fact), and no desire to be upright, let alone venture out into the cold to Selina’s party.

Still, I had spent $43 on a nice duty-free Lancome perfume set at SFO for Selina, and I wasn’t about to let it go to waste sitting my closet. Struggling to shower and change, I kept receiving text messages from Pearl, Clint, Alex: “Don’t stay in tonight, let’s go out!” Crazy fucking kids.

I made my way into Class Bar by myself, and after giving Selina a birthday hug and handing her my gift, I plopped down onto the chair next to Sandy, who was gracefully sipping red wine and flashing her trademark Angelina Jolie smile at me. I had seen her at Babyface the night before in a haze of smoke and whiskey, and I asked her how long she had stayed after we left for Guandii.

Sandy: I didn’t stay too long. I realize now that I shouldn’t be partying out of control. It may not feel like a problem now, but once we hit thirty we’ll start feeling it.

I was in shock. Was I hearing this correctly? Did Sandy just recommend that we start curtailing our free-wheeling ways and start taking care of our bodies more? This was the same girl that, after I had vomited half my guts out after a binge, tried to get me to wash it back down with a pitcher of screwdrivers. This was the same girl that once ate a dinner that consisted entirely of bottles of Corona.

I let her words sink in. She was right, it WAS foolish to behave so recklessly. It didn’t hurt that at that moment, my throat was killing me, and I had felt like a huge piece of porcupine turd for most of the day. I sipped from my glass of warm water (yes, you read correctly, warm water), and nodded. It was time to be more in control, to be more concerned about my health. Although I had said this exact same thing many a time, and was laughed at many a time, this time I was dead serious, and no one would be laughing at me.

Moments later, Sandy stumbled toward me, glass of champagne in one hand and a half-finished joint in the other. She tripped and fell at my feet, and as I leaned down to help her, the drunk/high girl looked up at me, pointed, and started laughing hysterically.

Joke’s on me, I guess. The party must go on.