An end of an Era

It’s actually over. An end of an era. The conclusion of a career. My days of drinking and living a party lifestyle have come to an end. It was the only thing I had that I truly considered myself to be great. Now I am good at a lot of things. For example: Satirical poetry, Super Nintendo, and I play a mean left field in slow pitch softball. (2/3 of the earth is covered in water….. I cover the rest.) In those things I was definitely good, but in terms of drinking and partying, I was great. My professional drinking career was lengthy, consistent, spanned multiple states and countries, and if there was a hall of fame for partiers, I would most certainly be a first balloter. Being a self-proclaimed drinking legend is different though. Quitting or retiring from drinking is not like a legend retiring from the sport or profession they loved. There was no farewell tour like the one being put on for Derek Jeter. I did not receive free drink packages and most definitely wasn’t presented with commemorative plaques from all of the drinking establishments I frequented to signify the end of an era. There was no cheesy hash tag created in memorial of the brilliance of my career.  Nor did I have the opportunity to pay homage to the activity I loved, by doing something like pausing and tipping my hat on Swilcan Bridge at the Historic St. Andrews. (That was a golf reference turds.)

There is a reason I wasn’t given a lavish retirement celebration or a hero’s farewell as I rode off into the sunset. The fact is no one cared! No one cared and they shouldn’t have. Frankly, I was just another drunk. I didn’t do anything life changing to the benefit of others. Other then paying the electric bill at a few bars, I really did nothing. There was no cure for cancer developed during my many drinking sessions. I was not awarded the Medal of Honor for valiantly protecting the country I love while drunk. And I most certainly did not save the world from an asteroid the size of Texas like the guys from the 1998 Oscar snub “Armageddon.”  Seriously, you critics can kiss my ass. Armageddon was cinematic gold! Sorry, that is an issue for another post, but back to what I was getting at.

 It’s crazy when you stop because you finally come around to the idea that you weren’t very good at drinking. In fact, you were exceptionally bad. It’s a cold hard realization to come to. Turns out you were just like those fools on American Idol.  You know the ones. The crazies that thought they were the next  big star, yet sounded like nails on a chalk board and had their dreams come to crashing halt from a seemingly constipated Simon Cowell. Embarrassed to say, but I wish I had come to this realization a lot sooner. Yo Simon, where were you when I was a 19 year old sophomore in college asshole?

As an insanely competitive person, to realize you were awful at the one thing you thought to be great is tough. It’s deflating. I wish I had a clever word or phrase to describe this, but the only thing I can say is, “SHIT.” So what next? What do I do? What am I good at? I reckon it’s time to figure out what I am great at. Not really sure what that entails, but I certainly have more time on my hands and am definitely optimistic. Think of all the time that was wasted bellied up at a bar. It was easy to come up with these great ideas, but they were never remembered or acted upon.  So for everyone reading I promise to come up with the absolute craziest ideas and I will act upon them. The sky is the limit. I mean, if you can talk your uber-conservative mother into taking family photos in matching wolf shirts then you probably have a few screws loose and a blatant disregard for normalness.

For years I thought I was so great, but at what? Getting drunk? There are millions of people who are already good at that. The thing I valued so highly and the thing I thought that set me apart was literally the thing holding me back. Hey, I wish I could drink. I really do. I wish I could have a few drinks, get red faced, and giggle at everything that people said. Unfortunately I can’t. I am a person who slams a 12 pack, climbs a building and takes their pants off.  So I can’t do it and it is something I have to live with, but I’ve got a lot of built up energy that needs to be expended and hey, I think it’s about time I do something crazy. Something crazy like, let's say, getting Savage Garden back together. Stay tuned and have a great week.