Scott Charles Adams' Blog

Jack Daniel and the Thirteen-Stair Adventure

by on Jan.06, 2018, under Uncategorized

Recreational drinking is tricky business. For example, if you’re drinking outside of your home you should either be a) standing up, or b) talking frequently. The acts of standing or speaking allow you to accurately gauge your condition. If you’re quietly sitting and drinking, it’ll sneak up on you. You’ll find yourself way drunker than you realized and – depending on what kind of friends you have – you risk waking up covered with penises.

If you have nice friends, they’ll only be drawn onto you with magic marker. If you don’t have nice friends …

(Oh! If you don’t have a designated driver, your limit is two. TWO. If you’re out for an entire day, maybe a third is doable. If you’re on two wheels, you may have zero drinks.)

Drinking in the home involves other tricks. If you binge drink in the home, the single most important trick is to only buy as much as you can handle. If you only buy as much as you can handle, you don’t need any other tricks. You will run out before you get to the point of having to clean up vomit or passing out so deeply that your dog can’t wake you up and panics and eats your face which has fucking happened.

When I binge drink, I can handle 375 ml of Jack Daniel’s. That’s about 8.5 shots. That amount of alcohol means no real risk. No risk of vomiting. No risk of the spins. Some risk of calling someone a Mother Fucker on Facebook or Twitter. Some risk at blogging a love letter to John McCain only to have him vote Yes on a bullshit tax bill a few weeks later. More than 375 ml, and I’m the Highway to the Danger Zone.

But I’ve recently changed my drinking habits. Hmm. Maybe not changed. It may or may not be permanent. Let’s go with, “I’m trying something new,” and that new thing is to mix my Jack Daniel’s instead of chasing it. I don’t mix my drinks very strong – to the point where if I stop drinking to eat a sandwich, I’ll lose all interest in drinking. My buzz is insufficient to bridge me over a bowl of pretzels. The upside to this is that the amount of whiskey I buy is no longer limited to what I can drink in one night, which means I can buy whiskey in greater volume for a lower price.

Which is going to become important in the coming years, since John McCain voted Yes on a bullshit tax bill. I don’t hold him solely responsible, but he was supposed to be our Undercover Hero in the Legion of Doom. But I digress.

Tonight, I saved a ton of money on whisky by buying a great, big, bottle. 1.75 liters. I’m covered for weeks, for a little over twice what I would have paid for one night of Twitter wars. And yes, I just made the argument that $50 worth of whiskey is a sound financial investment in my future. I’m just that good.

I live on the second floor, which means there are thirteen stairs between my front door and my living room. It’s 15˚ F outside, so getting into my front door involved wrestling with 8 liters of Diet Pepsi and 1.75 liters of Jack Daniel’s and house keys and a glove hanging out of my mouth. I got inside, locked the door behind me, and climbed thirteen stairs. Anxious to get the glove out of my mouth, I set my Liquid Bliss down at the top of the stairs and … realized too late that I’d missed the top of the stairs.

The Diet Pepsi had achieved the landing – because of-fucking-course it did. The Jack Daniel’s on the other hand, did not achieve the landing. It achieved the 12th step. Followed quickly by the 11th step, and the 10th step.

My first act was to yell, “Noooooo!” like Darth Vader being told Padme didn’t make it.

… 9th step, 8th step …

How long does it take to clean up 1.75 ml of whiskey? Will the liquor store still be opened?

… 7th step, 6th step …

Should I leave the spilled whiskey on the floor while I make another trip? How long will my foyer smell like whiskey if I do that? Can that smell be avoided at this point?

Oh – I’m still yelling, “Nooooo!” In case that wasn’t clear.

… 5th step, 4th step …

It’s in a plastic bag. Maybe the bag will hold most of the whiskey, I reasoned. If it doesn’t, how many paper towels does it take to clean up 1.75 ml of whiskey? If I ask Siri, will she know?

…3rd step, 2nd step …

The bag decided to bail on the adventure, and clung desperately to the baseboard – but the bag was now inverted. And, as some of us know all too well, Jack Daniel’s will not be denied the opportunity for adventure.

… 1st step …

Maybe I should blog this. I’ll bet I could make this funny. I don’t blog nearly enough.

Still yelling, “Noooo!” I have plenty of wind left.

CRACK! as it hits the floor of the foyer. Shit. Exactly the sound I was hoping not to hear. I wasted no time descending the stairs, horrified at what I might find.

The bottle was intact. Jack Daniel’s had survived yet another adventure! Yay, Jack Daniel’s! You are invincible!

Sadly, the same could be said for the linoleum, which now had a shattered spot about an inch across. On an ordinary day, that linoleum tile might have been fine – but it’s 15˚ F outside. The intense cold has been pouring through my mail slot for weeks, making the floor brittle and weak – and in its weakness, it made the ultimate sacrifice.

Thank you, linoleum tile. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

You will not be forgotten.


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