a night of drunken revelry

It's always sad when a coworker who is actually a friend (these are few and far between) leaves the firm. These days, it seems like they are dropping like flies. I guess the one good thing is the celebration that goes along with bidding friends farewell as they move on to greener pastures and their next adventure.

Last night, I organized a little get together at a bar/lounge that was close enough to walk to but far enough to keep those that are not truly interested in saying bon voyage away. Plus, a nasty mix of hail/snow/rain turned the sidewalks into a wintery slip & slide. The revelry started at 7:00 pm -- which proves how loved soon to be Ex-Coworker (XC) is and how much XC will be missed since it is rare that you can convince corporate lawyers to leave their desks before the "free" car ride home at 8:00 pm.

We started with the usual "I'll miss you when you're gone" and "What will you do now?" But after the first round of drinks the conversation turned to lighter subjects such as "What was the best prank you ever pulled?" I think that XC won that contest. XC recounted a story of a fellow student in jr high who used to "coerce" gumballs (the big, round, shiny kind that you get from the gumball machine) from classmates--pretty much, a gumball bully. XC quickly grew tired of having to provide said classmate with a daily gumball fix, so XC used a protractor to disect a red gumball, scooped out the inside, placed a wad of already chewed gum in the middle, put the two halves back together, and used a red marker to cover up the seam. When the offending classmate demanded a gumball, XC grudgingly handed over the carefully crafted masterpiece and took great joy in the bully's reaction. Remind me never to get on XC's bad side. XC's had many years since then to perfect the art of revenge. I shudder to think of what good-natured yet retaliatory pranks she has in mind for her last days here at the firm.

After the third round of drinks (yes, we are all light weights) we decided to call it a night. It was 10:30 pm and we had all stayed much later than we had planned. As we teetered down the steps -- the lounge was located on the second floor of a restaurant -- I somehow went from barely standing to stone cold sober and the unofficial mom for the night. I made sure that XC made it down the stairs ok (next time, I will pick a place on the ground floor). While putting my coat on, I looked outside and was shocked to see one of the members of our group slumped against the restaurant's storefront. When I opened the door to go outside, Drunken Coworker (DC) promptly fell over and hit her head on the granite step leading into the restaurant. Oh @#$%. I felt responsible (it's the catholic guilt) for getting DC drunk since I was the one who ordered DC a drink that night. How was I supposed to know that DC wouldn't be able to handle half a hurricane? It just seemed wrong that we were sipping cocktails and she was nursing a coke. Is it my fault that DC succumbed to peer pressure? Doesn't DC know that it's ok to say no?? I guess not.

XC picked DC up off the pavement and DC was babbling about having to go back to the office to authorize some documents. Easily slipping back into mom-mode I said that there was no way she was going back to the office--we were hailing her a cab and she was going home. While DC was protesting, DC's legs gave out and that's when I decided to get in a cab to make sure DC got into her apartment ok. I've never had to take care of anyone else before--I'm used to being the fool who has one too many (usually that means having 2 drinks total) and needs to be escorted to a cab. It is not an experience I hope to repeat. DC slurred her words as I asked her to give me her address. I had to hold her up as we walked into her building and I had to make sure that she didn't fall over in the elevator. I also had to tell her that "It's ok, you can cover that bruise up with your bangs." I was fine with all that. Having to hold back DC's hair while she was hunched over the kitchen sink -- yeah, DC couldn't even make it into the bathroom -- is asking too much.

The lesson that I've learned from all this? Make sure you go out with people that can handle more liquor than you.