Bibb Lettuce

One night, long ago, I took my underage brothers (I was underage myself) out drinking with some of the folks with whom I used to work. R didn't really drink, but the Perfect One and I did. Turned out to be a total mess...

The Perfect One kept drinking shots of 100 proof peppermint schnapps (Rumple Minze), and announcing to everyone at the table that, "Germans don't get drunk." Even as he leaned into the table, tipping it so that two women on the other side had to counterbalance it, he kept up this mantra. Germans may not get drunk, but they do get shit-faced.

I ended up cradling him in my arms, and carrying him out to his Jeep, where he was dumped into the back, sprawled all over. Worrying about being a little smashed myself, I took the backroads home.

As we made our way closer to home, I noticed that the Jeep seemed to be developing a problem... a certain clanging and ringing that occurred everytime we turned a corner. Soon, it was happening on every corner, and every bump we hit. After R did some investigating, we discovered that the pinging was only the Perfect One's skull bouncing off of his roll bar. Needless to say, I started swerving alot.

Anyway, we arrived home only to discover that my mother was there... she wasn't supposed to be. So we drove around, trying to figure out a way to get Mr. Perfect into the house. After a few trips around the block, we decided to eat on it, and stopped to pick up a burger. The Perfect One regained consciousness long enough to hammer down a burger, then went back to the Jeep to "rest" some more.

Fortunately, the next trip around the block revealed that Ma was no longer around, so we pulled in, and got TPO into the house, where he wobbled, stumbled, and ran down the steps and into the wall in the basement. We got him into bed, and had started to make our way back upstairs, when we heard the choking.

TPO sleeps like a vampire... insists on sleeping on his back, with his hands usually crossed over his chest. Seriously. Well, this isn't good if you are going to yak up booze. By the time we got into the room, he was already turning blue. I got him turned on his side, got him breathing decently, and R and I started cleaning up wretched smelling hurl. Having drank some peppermint myself, I had a hard time keeping from contributing to the puddle.

After cleaning up, and making sure that he lay on his side, R and I went out of the room to escape the stench. We weren't too sure if we should leave him or not, so we stayed downstairs talking and trying to come up with a story to keep Ma from coming down. A short time later, we heard choking again.

Sure enough, TPO was once again on his back, turning blue. This time I turned him on his side, and made R clean up the mess... I was sure that I would lose it. We stayed in there for a long while, and everything seemed okay, so we made our way back out of the room.

About half hour later, I stuck my head in to check on him. He was still on his side, but he had started the cough indicative of another hurling episode. I managed to wake him up, get him on his feet, and steer him towards the can. After I lined him up with the toilet, he turned his head, said "Thanks, Man," and puked all over my bare feet. All I could do was laugh... it was that or puke, myself.

One of the things that I remember most from this was the lettuce that had been on his burger. After a stint in the gut, it was a most unpleasant shade of nasty... dark green, like spinach, with black somethings... it looked like leeches on spinach. Definitely left an impression.

Why bring this up? I don't know... I started to write about the weekend, and got sidetracked with a natural calling. When I looked down, I realized that the Bibb lettuce that I had on my burger yesterday looks much the same. I needed to share.

I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait a bit for the weekend story...

Posted by That 1 Guy at February 27, 2006 03:10 PM