I am not really a drinker. This story is probably why. 

A long time ago, probably about 4 years into our marriage, we lived next door to these awesome neighbors from England by way of Abu Dabi. When they first moved in we waved from across our acre to theirs. But that was about it. In the evenings we sat outside with the dogs and horses enjoying a quiet night. It was July, I remember that. Sue and Mike had only been in the house a short time and monsoon season was starting to fire up. We knew absolutely nothing about them as we were far away wavers. 

One early morning we hear the dump trucks arrive. A lot of them. And watched as load after load of large granite, about 1/2" in diameter, was being offloaded into piles all over their acre. And there they were, the two of them, shoveling away. I would put them early forties as they had two adult children who were out of college. All day they shoveled. All night they continued to shovel. It was at least 105 degrees and sunny everyday. And everyday they continued to shovel, rake and smooth until the entire acre was covered. 

We, being the assholes that we were then, sat back and laughed in our kitchen as those fools were outside spreading what amounted to, I believe, around 100 tons of granite. Well, little did we know that they had spent the last 10 years in Abu Dabi where Mike worked with American Express. Our desert heat was like springtime in Manhattan compared to that part of the world.

So back to 'drunken conversation.' As time passed we became good friends with Mike and Sue. We shared many a cocktail out there in the desert after sunset. I remember one evening in particular when the four of us plus their son were sitting out back among the granite sharing a few bottles of wine while spinning tales of our pasts. It was about midnight when two drunken women showed up from out of the middle of nowhere (we lived in the desert, it was still pretty desolate out there.) They had rolled up from the trailers back behind our houses where some pretty strange shit used to happen. 

The 'ladies' said hi and proceeded to babble about nothing. Slowly rolling into asking Mike's son, a real cool guy with a quick wit, if they knew the neighbors. That would be us. He grinned, glanced our way and said "yes we do." One of the gals, Cricket was her name I later learned, piped up and said "they are the people with the wolves that eat children, right?" Now she has our attention. She is too drunk to realize THOSE neighbors were Kevin and I sitting right there. She went on and on about us. And Mike's son, Ian, didn't let up or give her a break. It was funnier than shit. And yes probably funnier because we were drunk. 

I bring all this up because it wasn't long after that when Christmas arrived and we went over to Mike and Sue's for Christmas Eve and some wine. Being the awesome hosts they both were my glass never emptied. And I never stopped talking. Husband and my sister left (walked next door as we lived next door...this is important to the story). I continued drinking (did I mention I don't really drink often). Oh did I continue.

I stumbled back home. Well not right away because I got lost. Yeah. Lost. Fell through the front door and onto the couch face down. Husband runs in. I'm babbly incoherently. He finally realizes I am mumbling that I can't breath and am suffocating. He looks at me and says, "honey, take the pillow off your face." He helped me to the bathroom where I did what every moronic drunk does except it was RED wine. I thought I was expelling my lungs. Seriously. I am screaming from the bathroom "I am dying! I am throwing up my lungs!" Once again my loving and patient (I hope you are reading this, Kevin) husband helps me stand up, wipes me down and puts me to bed.

There wasn't much drunken conversation after. Sigh. I don't drink much now. For fear I will choke up another lung.

Bottom Line?

Marry your best friend.

Because a real friend will do all the above for you (and get pictures!)

And you will respond in kind. Which is another blog post. Kevin, the Harley and the Front Gate. We bicycle now.