Drunken Dog Walking is a Trip!

So last Saturday Rich Henn and I went to the Big Apple Comic-Con (me for just an hour), and then started a long night of boozing it up … with some unexpected consequences.

We started off at Dallas BBQs on 23rd Street and 8th Avenue for some crispy wings … and Texas-sized margaritas. For those of you who haven’t seen what a Texas-sized margaritas looks like … well … it’s big. 20 oz. Then I had a Texas-sized beer. And then another.

And then we went up to Hiddelberg on the UpperSo last Saturday Rich Henn and I went to the Big Apple Comic-Con (me for just an hour), and then started a long night of boozing it up … with some unexpected consequences.

We started off at Dallas BBQs on 23rd Street and 8th Avenue for some crispy wings … and Texas-sized margaritas. For those of you who haven’t seen what a Texas-sized margaritas looks like … well … it’s big. 20 oz. Then I had a Texas-sized beer. And then another.

And then we went up to Hiddelberg on the Upper East Side, and had another jumbo beer. Henn literally drank out of a giant glass in the shape of a boot.

Apparently, I found that perfect level is being completely blasted without quite realizing just how blasted I was. And then I had to go home. And walk the dog. Which is when things got really interesting. (Liz was away for the weekend, so Simon was all mine …)

Now, I’m pretty new to being a dog owner, so my experience walking dogs is limited to just the past few months. But I’ve learned anything, it’s this: drunken dog-walking is [i]waaaaaaaay[/i] different than sober dog walking. Or, more to the point, the dog walked [i]me[/i].

Simon did just fine. I, on the other hand, had quite the adventure, bobbing and weaving, stumbling from one corner to the next, with 21st Century Breakdown (Green Day’s new album) blasting on my iPod.

But some miracle, I made around the neighborhood without causing any damage I’m aware of …

And as much fun as it was, I’m in no hurry to try it again. Especially when Simon got me up at 6 am for his next walk … and I was still blasted. Now that was no fun. My head was spinning, my body ached … not good.

So if there’s a lessen to be learned here, it’s that, if I’m going to go out for beers, make sure Liz is home to walk the dog for me!

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