Acid Reflux, Beer, and Intoxicated Memories

 

     More than a month ago, I had acid reflux so I had to temporarily shy away from some food and drinks (chili pepper or spicy foods, coffee, pizza, citrus fruits, chocolates, and alcoholic drinks like beer). Ah, beer. Every time I’d buy groceries, I’d pick up a few cans of beer. But I’m not a heavy drinker, I consume just two to four beers a week—a beer a day is considered healthy. Moderate consumption of beer is good for the heart.

     I drank my first beer when I was in high school, which is one and a half centuries ago.

     The most that I drank in one sitting, I think, are eleven bottles of beer, and miraculously, I was able to go home without a scratch, and I didn’t even vomit.

     My grossest drunken experience: I threw up inside a Tamaraw FX (I was sitting alone at the back). I vomited first on my handkerchief, then, when my handkerchief was full, I vomited on my jacket (it was raining), then, finally, on the floor of the vehicle. The driver didn’t say anything, maybe he didn’t notice as I was quiet. I went huuuurk! with every vomit. I was so guilty I wanted to quadruple my fare, it was just that I didn’t have any money with me at that time anymore.

     When I got home and while my room was violently swaying while I lay on my bed, I asked myself repeatedly: Why am I doing this to myself?

     Scariest drinking experience: College days, me and my two male classmates were drinking inside a small seedy bar in Quiapo (a scary place especially at night) while enjoying dancing naked girls. It was already past midnight. The girls would come out one by one and dance on the stage, sometimes atop the customers’ table. The thing is, that night, the girls would only dance on our table, flirting with us, joking with us, asking us to take them home. Until somebody shot our beer bottles—with a GUN. Manager said they’d call the police, but when we saw a group of men suspiciously going out the club while eyeing us, we decided to make a run for it. We were scared they would brainstorm on how to kill us; might drag us out of the bar anytime to do it. There was a stair fronting the club, we went down and then ran past that group of men waiting for us, surprising them. They yelled at us, and fired at us. Luckily, no one among us three was hit, we continued running like hell, our hearts thudding violently against our chests, and we only stopped when we were sure that we weren’t being chased. The men were probably jealous of the attention the girls gave us. We laughed out of relief, walked home, and drank beer again.

     Unlike many alcohol guzzlers, my personality doesn’t change when I’m intoxicated. I don’t get wild or violent, looking for a fight, I don’t get talkative or annoying, I don’t dig up something bad that happened two decades ago between me and the people I drink with at that time; I just get dizzy and then sleep afterwards.

    My tummy’s a bit okay now, but, so far, I have no craving for beer. The last few times I was in a grocery store, I’d just walk past the liquor section and would feel no remorse. So probably in this case, absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder. 

     What really makes the heart grow fonder? You give attention and show affection, by offering beer.