The thing that hangovers have in common with childbirth is that they’re worth it. They must be, because who among us gorgeous bastards hasn’t sworn off the drink after a particularly soul-crushing hangover, and yet eventually gone back for more.
After nearly two-decades of exhaustive research on the subject, I’ve learned various factors come into play that will affect the overall hangover experience besides just the amount and type of alcohol you drink. Who we’re with; what we eat — or don’t eat; the kind of music that was playing. Did we create our own dance floor? Was karaoke an option? Did we deem our co-worker ready to know we made out with her boyfriend before they met?
The quintessential hangover, when done properly, is a cocktail of humiliation mixed with physical misery. It’s much like a Choose Your Own Adventure book, but with every choice leading to a ruined day.
Some hangovers aren’t even that bad, like the Mild Yet Persistent Hangover. No energy and diminished brain power, but we function. We go to work, we drive our kids to school. Surely we’re not the only parent who drinks too much red wine on a Tuesday night after everyone else goes to bed.
The Bullshit Hangover is probably the worst. We didn’t even drink that much, didn’t even have much fun, and yet we have to spend the following day with a headache, watching a Pawn Stars marathon and going off our quality-food-only diet because McDonald's.
The Self-Loathing Hangover proves, yet again, that we are losers who don’t know when to stop drinking. Even though we forgot a lot of what happened, we do remember showing our ass to someone on whom we’d rather make a good impression, and that moment keeps playing over and over in our pounding heads.
Did we even pay our tab? Why did we tell that dude about how we have to plug our ears and think of Sesame Street’s Pinball Number Count song — “1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12” — to start peeing when there are other people in the bathroom? The filter came off. It always does. We bond way too easily with strangers.
The day progresses and we realize nothing is getting done. And we had a whole list of productive to-do’s. Instead, when we finally muster a shower it takes two shampoos to get all the cigarette smoke out. Damn, last night was kind of fun though. Then back to bed until late afternoon when we revert to a childhood favorite of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup and a Coke.
And, of course, there's the aforementioned Soul-Crushing Hangover. Death would be a welcome relief. We need food and electrolytes, but we're too nauseous to keep anything down. We're desperate to sleep all day, but instead we mostly toss and turn and cover our eyes to shut out that asshole sun. Mysterious elbow pain. Oh yeah, we laughed so hard we fell off the barstool.
Never. Drinking. Again. It’s so not worth it…
This article appears in Jun 11-17, 2015.