I'm writing this at a coffee shop down the street from our inn. Horatio said that I was writing too loud. And given the apparent state of his head, I wouldn't be surprised if that were actually true. He was pretty drunk last night.
Me, I'm not so fond of getting absolutely blind drunk. Blurring the edges of the world a little is good, but once I get much past that I tend to just end up depressed and eventually pass out.
Yes, I much prefer getting other people drunk. Horatio's pretty funny when he's drunk. He shouts a lot. And when you tell him to be quiet he whispers… just as loudly. I realized early on last night that Horatio hadn't, to the best of my knowledge, ever been really, really drunk. And well. . . I feel that everyone should be at least once. And I learned from my own experience that it's best to do so with a friend who keeps their wits about them to keep you from really embarrassing yourself. Though, I think that if he ever realizes that he had more than three-quarters of that bottle of good wine last night, he may shoot me. But really, every man in the Navy needs at least one good shoreleave story to tell. (and now I have one)
On a very different note, Clayton and I learned that if we could get Jack good and drunk he'd stagger off somewhere and we wouldn’t see him for the rest of the night. He had a habit of helping himself to our rum rations anyway, but we were pretty happy to let him have them. The more drunk he got, the worse his hangover would be and the longer he'd keep from terrorizing the rest of us.
I suppose I should find something to do with the morning since I think it's unlikely that Horatio will be able to find the floor before noon at least. And I might think of having lunch before I head back. I doubt he'll want to eat for days.