Alcohol, by its very nature, affects people in vastly differing ways. We could each of us on here describe in minute detail what it’s like when we feel drunk, and could even hold constant the ounces of alcohol we had each consumed at any given time, and STILL the types of experiences would be as many as the drops of water in the sea.
The best you can do is to try for three things: 1) as was suggested above, try to control your environment a bit, and 2) overcome your fear of the hangover, and 3) and understand that EVERYone has a different point at which they decide to term themselves “drunk”.
Think of the numerous words meaning (essentially) similar things: tipsy, buzzin’, woozy, drunk, wasted, hammered, smashed, pissed, destroyed, marinated, saturated, and gone. To name just a small few. People will invariably choose different times at which they believe that they are one or the other of any of these descriptors.
As for number 2, life is about balance: feeling like crapola in the AM is directly proportionate to the awesome that you felt the night before.
..Now of that is not to say that one shouldn’t always seek to know more. And thus, I will write you some verse on the subject, to foreshadow your future joys:
~
From the grain, from the grape, from the apple or the pear,
Came a drink to be drunk, with songs to be song, and merriment to share -
Down the hatch! Drink forty-eight laps! Now the sweeter smelling air..
Drink up lads! Sis boom bah! Now the girls are looking more fair..
Off to the head, to drain out the lead, with the door left swingin’ wide,
We’ll sing out the songs of the Irish throngs as we squeeze past a blushin’ bride,
Back to the rap, and the chug! chug! chug! of the cups and the table on its side,
Then off to the bar – You’re a Super. Star. The drinks flowin’ in like the tide.
Marvel at the size, of the bar girl’s eyes, as your mouth turns truth into words,
Soak up the gaze; she appears in a daze – your intellect soaring like birds,
She agrees to lunch, but her phone’s in a crunch, ‘neath a truck on the 832,
So you sail away – Callooh! Callay! in elephant search of to do..
The table sways as the music plays; the feet thump! thump! the rumble –
Rhythm set – skin and sweat – dance and fret – the drink to drink! ..and tumble
The street smells sweet – the air smells fresh; girls in taxis: laughing. flesh?
Trees in floors – seas behind doors – grass in the stores – mind is mesh.
Garbled sea foam in the fridge, on the right – to the left of the cable repair man,
I’ll find the room, and the broom, and stoom, and the flewm and strewn on a rock,
Near the sock and the shock drop stock top knockin’ in a row all to go to the so so so.
…
…Awake in the morn’, with the sun and a stutter, then a slow inescapable shudder,
...Awake on a bed: foreign, unknown. Surroundings are new, and memories: blown.
~
ec