Drinking

For my birthday, the people in my group decided they had to do something. They couldn't give me a party, because I hadn't given them enough time, so they decided to test me. Since the beginning, I had two statements that were used to make a life choice for me, but also, I suppose, used to invoke pity and/or dubiousness. The first was that I wouldn't go out with a girl who was desperate enough to date me, and the second was that I can't get drunk.

Rather than bribe a girl to come on to me, they went with the more feasible alternative, and tried to get me drunk.

Obtaining the wine was very easy; it was Friday night. For those who don't know what kiddush is, you are supposed to drink a little wine on Friday night. So, they collected the wine bottles laying around. Generally, you have a "whiskey shot" size of wine, in a little cup, but since this was a poor kibbutz, there were no little cups, so people just poured the equivalent small amount, into the typical, glass, kibbutz coffee cups.

"OK, Michael. You are going to get drunk." They fill up the mug to the top.

"Guys, I'm telling you, this is a waste of time," I said, finishing it one gulp.

"We'll see," they pass around knowing glances, we get up, wash, make hamotzi, and then they notice, "hey Michael, you're glass is empty," they said filling it.

"Really, this won't work."

"Michael, your glass is full."

One chug, "This is really fruitless."

"We'll see."

Third cup downed. Fourth cup downed. Each in one sip, this is all in three minutes, so far. "Guythe I'm thelling youth I thon't get dwunk."

"Hey, Michael, you're beginning to slur your words." (Yeah, like I don't normally.)

"No, I've just got bread in my mouth," I said, taking the bread out of my mouth, then touching my nose to prove the point.

"OK, well, your glass is full."

Fifth cup, sixth cup. The one liter bottle is polished off.

(Not to make my foreshadowing too blatant, but allow me to point out, that because of the great hike I had that day, I was exhausted, I had only had two hours of sleep the night before, all I had had that day, during the strenuous hike was a salami sandwich, and a pint of water. Since coming back, all I had eaten was the bread, less than a slice worth, and the soup that is about to come.)

Finally, the meal begins, and the soup comes. Still, I'm informed, the cup's full. Seventh glass, eighth glass, ninth glass. Each, one chug each.

"Guys, I can't drink anymore. I feel like I'm going to burst."

"Well, go to the bathroom, but then come back. We've got plenty of more bottles here." I came back, swallowed the tenth glass, and couldn't take it anymore.