I awoke on a couch somewhere in the United States to find myself wearing a onesie, spooning a giant spoon (literally—check it) and surrounded by my sister’s friends laughing at me. “What happened?” I wondered. Luckily I had taken notes. Unluckily the notes read, “Emperor of bread German beer hall brawls onesies call Heather.”
Even more unluckily, my sister remembered. Here’s what went down:
9pm: We head to a Georgian Restaurant, known for Eastern European wedding parties and children’s birthdays. It’s BYOB and we BYOB’d, big time. Handles of whiskey and vodka were produced at a ratio of one per two people, with a group agreement that we’d finish half of what was in front of us. For those not mathematically inclined, that’s a quarter handle per person. Also, the restaurant had a minimum head charge of 16 and we were only 8, so double dinners for everyone! I’m sorry, that paragraph had a lot of fractions.
9:30pm: Drinking commences. Rules: every toast requires a shot. The first toast must be to women, the second to health, and then it’s a free for all. “To women,” my sister said! We cheersed and took the shot. That’s strong, I thought.
9:45pm: Seven toasts later. Whoops. Also, I’ve eaten a full loaf of bread, some chicken, a few pieces of cheese bread and a two bowls of soup. “Are we ready for dinner?” the waiter asked. “What was that?” I asked. “Appetizers,” he responded. “A TOAST TO APPETIZERS!” my sister yelled. We drank.
10:15pm: Still toasting. I feel bad. “May I have your attention!” a woman yells. “We are here to celebrate Nicolas’s first birthday!” The room cheers. “A toast to Nicolas. May you grow as strong as this vodka!” I yell as my sister punches me. A stern Georgian man arrives with a full bowl of wine. “This is our custom,” he says. I drink the bowl of wine with a vodka chaser. “Oh no,” I say. “Oh. YES!” he says.