A Hangover in the Life of the Mac-Attack

"Ahh, my head!"

I woke up with a splitting headache. I needed Tylonell, and I needed it fast.

"I guess that's what you get for having those shots last night."

I didn't exactly know what my brother Darrin was talking about. I didn't remember having any shots the night before. Come to think of it, I didn't remember much about last night at all.

"Shots?"
"Do the words 'Disaronno Originale' come to mind?"
"I had ameretto last night?"
"Six quick shots of it. One by one by one."
"Oh, geez."

The pain in my head hadn't stopped, and I was having a hard time walking.

"You really got into that Simachat Torah spirit, didn't you?"
"That's right, it was Simchat Torah last night--oh, shit, Mom and Dad were there!"
"Yes. Yes they were."
"And Tara and JT."
"Yup."
"And the whole congregation of Temple Beth Zion!"
"And boy were Mom and Dad proud of ya!"

I may have been hung over, but I could sense the sarcasm in my brother's voice.

"I need water, like now."
"I'll bet you do."

After taking some Tylonell and drinking some water, the rest of my family came downstairs. My younger brother JT, my sister Tara, and my mom and dad.

"Hey, the alcoholic is awake before we are!"
"Shut up, Closet-Case."
"Michael Isaac Maccabbi, don't talk to your younger brother like that. He's not the one who was plastered last night."
"Now, Al, don't be so overdramatic about it. I guarantee that Rabbi Frazen's sons are still passed out on the floor of the Chabbad of Greater Phoenix and Scottsdale."
"Yeah, and you have to admit it was hilarious when he serenaded Mrs. Goldsmith."
"I serenaded Mrs. Goldsmith?"
"You asked her to marry you."
"Oh, God."

Just then, Tara's financee Mark graced us with his presence.

"Mikey! How's Mrs. Goldsmith doing?"
"She's in the Honeymoon Suite. Wanna ask her yourself?!"

By now I was really annoyed. Suddenly, I started remembering things.

"It's kinda coming back to me now. Services started at 7; I started drinking around 8:30 or so."
"Michael, that's when you did all your drinking. There was only about two seconds between each shot."
"Ben was with me. I'm guessing he drove me home."
"Nope. He left after you proposed to Mrs. Goldsmith."
"Then did you take me home?"
"You wouldn't let me."

I thought really hard. It all seemed to be coming back to me...but I still didn't remember who drove me home.

The events leading up to services were as clear as my windshield after getting my car washed. I hadn't been to synagogue since Yom Kippur, two weeks before.

"Mac, you have to go. You're the President of USY, and you've missed the last two lounges!"
"I've been busy. You know that, Ben."
"Mac, you haven't been busy. You've just been avoiding Melinda."
"I have not."
"Have so."
"Ben, I got my closure on that situation on Yom Kippur. I'm okay with the fact that her and I will never be together. In fact, I've been talking to a couple different girls, thinking about starting something up."
"So, why not take one of these girls to Simchat Torah tonight?"
"None of them are Jewish."
"Well, if you're really over Melinda, you can come to Simchat Torah services tonight and sit with us...along with all the other people who made you our USY President!"

Ben looked at me.

"Don't make me beg."

The next thing I knew, Ben was on his knees.

"Please, oh please, come to services tonight! Please please please please please!!!"
"Okay, okay. I'll go--but on one condition."
"Alright."
"Never get on your knees in front of me again, unless you happen to turn into Taylor Swift overnight."
"Deal."

The next thing I remembered about that night was arriving to services. By the time I got there, the synagogue was packed. I took a seat in the USY section next to Ben. I immediately saw that Melinda was sitting right behind me.

"It's good to see you, Michael."
"You too."

It was a little awkward, from what I remember. Actually, it was very awkward. After a few prayers, my dad (aka the Rabbi) began calling for volunteers to dance with the Torahs. As the people began dancing with the torahs, the congregation began dancing around the Torahs.

"Come on, Mac. Let's go dance around the Torahs!"
"What?"
"Yeah, it'll be fun."
"I don't know."
"Well, while you contemplate over this important life decision, I'll be dancing. Maybe you can join me."

Melinda ran off to dance the Horah around the Torah (yes, I know that rhymes. That's why I added that line in)

"She always does this!"
"Dances the Horah around the Torah? I actually think most people do that only once a year."
"You know what I mean, Ben. She seems to think that everything can just be fine and dandy and that it doesn't have to be awkward!"
"Mac, it doesn't have to be awkward. You're only making it awkward."

It was at that moment that I noticed people gathering around a table of liquor bottles.

"Maybe you're right, Ben. But I know how to make it less awkward now."

I motioned over to the table.

"Oh no, Mac. You drove here tonight."
"So I'll leave my car here. I'll be back to get it on Monday."
"You know you're not a big drinker. There's a reason for that."
"Do you want me to have fun tonight or don't you? Rabbi Frazen's kids are probably so trashed that they're peeing on their own tallis bags!"
"But that's at the Chabbad of Greater Phoenix and Scottsdale. This is one of two times of the year that they can get drunk."
"I'm not gonna get drunk, Ben. I'm just gonna have a little something to get me loose."
"Okay, fine. We'll do a shot."

I could clearly remember walking over to the table. We looked through all the liquor: Jack Daniel's Whiskey, Grey Goose Vodka, Southern Comfort, and Disaronno Originale Amaretto.

"I believe that the sweet alomond drink will be the liquor of choice this evening."
"I don't know, Mac. Have you ever even had amaretto?"
"I hear it's really sweet."
"Well, okay. One shot won't hurt."

We each poured a shot and drank. It did taste sweet, but my throat was pretty hot afterwards.

"Well, like I said, one shot."

As he said this, I poured my second shot and I drank it.

"Mac, I said one shot. Do you want your parents to kill you?"

And while he said this, I poured and drank shots three, four and five.

"Come on, Ben! It's a party!"

On that note, I poured and drank shot six. I then stepped away from the table, stumbling a little bit.

"Okay, Mac. I think you've had enough."
"Nah, I feel fine!"

I then stumbled and tripped. Ben caught me.

"I think you should eat something."
"I'm not hungry...for food, that is."

It was then that the now infamous Mrs. Goldsmith walked by.

"Mac--"
"Does Mrs. Goldsmith always look this good?"
"I'd assume not, Mac. She's sixty-three years old!"
"Look at the way she dances, though!"

In reality, Mrs. Goldsmith wasn't that light on her feet, but I was now drunk enough to believe she could be a dancer on Broadway.

"I must tell her how I feel."
"Dizzy, queasy, as if the world is spinning?!"
"I have to tell her I'm in love with her!"
"Mac!"

But it was too late for my best friend to stop me. I was going to tell the sagging old lady about my passion for her.

"Mrs. Goldsmith! Mrs. Goldsmith!"
"Well, hello, Michael."
"Hi, Mrs. Goldsmith."

I'm sure Ben was slapping himself on the forehead.

"Mrs. Goldsmith, you look beautiful tonight."
"Why thank you, Michael. You know, I have a granddaughter who would just love you. She lives in Rhode Island."
"Well, I'm sure she's--I'm sure she's lovely. But why have a--a burger when you can have a steak?"

It was then that Darrin came over to me.

"Mrs. Goldsmith, have you lost weight?"
"Back off, Bucko! She's mine!"
"Michael, what have you been drinking?"
"All I've--all I've been drinking is the--the beauty of Mrs. Goldsmith's figure."
"Wow. Just wow."
"Well, while I'm enjoying all of your lovely compliments, Michael, I really must be going now."

As she walked away, I attempted to run after her--but I fell at her feet. Once again, I'm sure Ben was slapping his forehead, and I knew Darrin must have been too.

"Don't go, Mrs. Goldsmith. I thought we had something special."
"Michael, I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about."
"I love you, Mrs. Goldsmith. I wanna spend--wanna spend the rest of my life with you!"
"Michael, I am flattered, but I really must be going now."

Just like that, she was gone.

"NOOOOOO!!!! The love of my life is gone!!!!!"

Ben looked at me.

"So, um, I'm gonna go home and barf now. I'll see you later."

Suddenly, my dad and Darrin came over to me and picked me up off the ground.

"Michael, you need to sober up. You need to sober up fast. You are embarassing yourself--and worse, you're embarassing me--in front of the entire congregation! Do you understand the consequences of your actions?!"

I attempted to say something back, but instead, I threw up all over the floor.

"Great. This is just PERFECT!"

My father walked away from me angrily. Darrin was still with me.

"Darrin, come close."
"I'd rather not."
"You, my brother, are a very, very good person. I don't--I don't care what anyone else thinks of you. Are you--are you listening to me? Are you listening to me, Darrin?"

The more I think about it, the more it seems Darrin was trying to hold back his laughter. I'm not sure if it was the situation that he found funny or if it was the fact that I had fucked up.

"You are such a dumb-ass, Michael. Get your head on straight and stop making an ass out of yourself in front of all these people."
"You know what, Darrin? Fuck you; you're the dumb-ass!"
"Didn't you just say that I'm a very, very good person?"
"Well, I--I take it back!"
"You're drunk. I'm taking you home."
"Oh no. I'm not--I'm not going anywhere--anywhere with you."
"Well, you're not driving yourself and I don't think you have too many other options. Mom and Dad are too pissed at you to drive you home."

Just then, I did probably the dumbest thing I could have done on that drunken night.

"Melinda!"

Melinda walked over to me and Darrin.

"Don't take too much of what he says seriously. He's plastered."
"What did he drink?"
"Six shots of ameretto, hardly taking a breath between each shot."
"You know, I'm--I'm standing right here."
"I'd hardly call that standing."

He did have a point. At this stage of the evening, I was using Darrin's shoulder to keep from falling.

"Melinda, Melinda, Melinda. You great, beautiful, girl who is a friend and nothing more."
"Michael--"
"I think we should--I think we should talk."
"Here? Now?"
"Not here. Not now."
"Then where and when?"
"I think he wants you to drive him home, Melinda. He won't let me."
"I suppose I could."
"Great, now we're all on the same page!"

I stood up on my own and then fell down immediately. That's the last thing I remembered about that night.

"So Melinda was the one who drove me home?"
"Yeah."
"Did I do or say anything stupid?"
"How should any of us know? We aren't Melinda."
"I probably did, right?"
"There's only one way to find out."

I was still too hung over to understand what Mark was implying I should do.

"Um, call her."
"Oh. Right. Yeah, I should do that."

I picked up my phone and dialed her number: 602 555 2643.

"Hey."
"Hey."
"Melinda, about last night. I was really drunk. I don't remember if I said anything stupid, but--"
"You didn't. Everything is fine."
"Okay. That's good."
"How are you feeling?"
"Like shit."

She laughed.

"So I'll see you later then."
"Yup. Thanks for calling. Bye."
"Bye."

We hung up.

An hour or two later, when I was feeling better, I began to remember bits and peices about the car ride with Melinda.

"You know, it's--it's nice of you to drive me. You didn't have to--have to do that."
"What did you want to talk about?"
"Well, there's always something to talk about."
"Anything specific?"
"Life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness."
"Okay, since you said that, it's clear to me that you are wasted and that you probably won't remember any of this."
"Probably not."
"So I'll say it. Life: my life is sucking right now because you're not in it the way that I'd like you to be in it. Liberty: I thought that being single and unattached would be liberating, and I was afraid to be so closely involved with someone, even if it was you. That's why I treated you so badly. Happiness: I'm not happy right now. Are you?"

I now recall looking at her and suddenly sobering up for the few seconds that it took for me to say what I was about to say.

"No, Melinda. I'm not."

I do believe that it was at this point where she arrived to my house and I got out of the car, saying only "Thanks for the ride" and "Have a nice night".

On Simchat Torah this year, I did and said a lot of stupid things. But admitting to Melinda that I wasn't happy without her was the one thing I did that wasn't stupid.

She had told me how she felt because she knew I was wasted and that I would most likely not remember it. Well, she was right about the first part. But now that I did remember it, I wondered what my next move should be.

How is it that a drunk guy can know exactly what he wants in the exact moment he wants it, while a sober man can do no such thing? I guess it's just one of those things that my sober self will never understand.

Sincerely,
Mac-Attack