Also known as: everything I drank in an 8 hour period and how awful my hangover was.
Have you ever blacked out with your mom? I sure did.
After Christmas, my mother took me and my brothers on our first family vacation ever without buffers. Usually we were going to visit friends or family or had an extra person or two along. We’ve never gone anywhere just the 4 of us until we went to New Orleans.
The first step in the process was making sure Jack, now 18 1/2, had a proper fake ID. Tim took care of that, Mom took care of the hotel and airline tickets and Jack and I just showed up.
The trip was largely uneventful- some moderate fighting and bad communication, a bike tour, Jack got his first lap dance, listened to awesome music, we had dinner at the Commander’s Palace, ate lots of delicious food and did a lot of sight-seeing (mom is totally the tourist on the corner with a map) until the last night. Mom and I had spent the day together (my brothers were tired from another night of partying) seeing the sights before heading to a Mexican restaurant for tacos and margaritas.
By that point in the evening, Tim and I had been doing some heavy text-fighting, mom was mad they had slept all day, Tim was mad he was lost and Jack was hungry. By the time they got to the restaurant, we were in a full-out family brawl, which sent me right to the bar to pound tequila. A lot of tequila. We’d spent 7 days straight together between Christmas and vacation and I was at the end of my rope.
Once we were all a little bit drunk and loved each other again, we proceeded to Pat O’Brians, a New Orleans establishment in which mom sassed the bouncer into believing Jack’s ID was real, I ordered $11 worth of liquor + red juice (a Hurricane) after many many margaritas and I proceeded to get shit faced drunk. I mean like really shit faced drunk. With my family. On family vacation. It was at this point, Jack confessed he had a 3-some, Tim confessed something that I can’t quite remember and I told told my entire family what the guy I had been dating sounded like in bed and then proceeded to shared our sexts with the group.
When the waiter asked if we’d like another round, I shouted yes, my mother shouted no and we all were demoted to Abita. It was the nicest thing she’d ever done for me. I think we went to two more bars after the Irish Pub. I know for sure I was cut off after the Irish pub.
I woke up the next morning in the W Hotel room wearing my underwear and tank top. I found my jeans soaking wet on the bathroom floor due to Tim’s 3am shower and my belongings thrown all over the room. I had a wicked headache, was incredibly nauseous and the previous night’s events were a little hazy. My mother shamed her 3 children, demanded we pack our hungover selves and took us to the best po boy restaurant in the French Quarter for lunch before we left for the airport. Standing in line watching my mother pull a beer out of the cooler made me want to die. The smell of cigarette smoke made me want to die. Standing made me want to die. But the worst thing of all was when my mother made me eat shrimp. “You’ve been begging for a shrimp po boy for 3 days. Now is your chance. Eat it!” It was the most stressful sandwich I’ve ever eaten in my life.
The trip to the airport was mostly a blur. I know that I laid on the floor in the terminal, spent the entire flight to Atlanta trying not to throw up and switched terminals in Atlanta to find the McDonalds, all the while thinking I would never be happy again.
And that is what I did on my Christmas vacation: blacked out in front of my mom.