The Death of Alcohol

I am giving up alcohol. My love affair with the fermented ambrosia was short-lived, but gave many a moments to remember. It all started on a St. Patrick Day in March 2002 at the Four P's on Connecticut Ave in the Van Ness area of Washington, DC. To this day it remains my favorite pub but when next we meet I will be dry. It was a chilly overcast day in DC as my roommates and I trudged from our new home in Rockville, MD back to the old college stomping grounds. The pub was different on this most holy of Irish-American days, no furniture and several make-shift stations of different beers. Arriving early at 10 am, our festivities began and I decided that I was going to get drunk for the first time. Huzzah Jay! Huzzah Nick! Huzzah Caz! Those three devils in humans clothing, encouraging my debauchery. So the Edge was born although not yet named and all these years and bottles later I have decided once again to go dry.
Why do you ask? Well there are many reasons, the superficial ones would include the price, the taste, etc etc. But to be perfectly honest I feel like shit the day after. I used to be able to drink and have no problems the next day. Even if I was drinking heavily. Now even if I have just a little bit, I feel all messed up the day after. I think it may have something to do with all the training I do. The booze goes through my system fast than it used to or something along those lines, but who the hell knows?! Plus if one is trying to lose weight (ie ME) then drinking really fucks your metabolism and brings it to a comatose standstill. One of my biggest pet peeves is the dehydration. I can't stand being dehydrated, and nothing will destroy moisture like alcohol.

Now I probably won't swear it off permanently. I am sure there will be the occasional party or wedding when I decide to share in the spirits of the moment. But on the whole I think I will swear it off. So it is then, that I lay to rest the bottle. I wish it a happy and peaceful slumber. No longer will I feel obligated to drink while at a bar, no longer will I futilely limit myself to "just one", no more will I wake up the next day feeling like a shriveled prune in the middle of a desert. Farewell to thee, my dear companion. Oh you go by so many names...Jack Daniels, John Jameson, Johnny Walker! You Wild Turkey! You old Granddad! You will truly be put on ice. My seven and seven will now be just a seven. How I mourn for the empty sifter, the highball glass, the rocks that will never fall. Cry not the popping cork, the grinding cry of the untwisting cap, your pleas fall on deaf ears and dry tongue. Though your barrels will continue to age and roll, your amber huge still shine, let not my fast break for you. I will miss your fiery kiss, your rumbling rage down my gullet. The tingling orgasms up my spine, that makes me shake and close my eyes. Good night to you, dear friend Al! Let your intoxicating tastes and aromas find you a new companion. For on this day our relationship has ended, our love has broke, you shall no longer taste my tongue!