For some reason, one of my least favourite memories has been banging around inside my skull today. I experienced many low points during my years of being a habitual drunk, but the night I walked around my home town covered in curry sauce is definitely up there in the embarrassment charts. Everyone who saw me that night was convinced I’d shat myself, but this was one drunken episode when my sphincter control wasn’t an issue.
A Night on the Town in Dun Laoghaire with Curry to Follow
I must have been about twenty years old when this incident took place, so it would have been 1989. I’d just come back to Ireland after spending a bit of time in England. I’d already been to my first rehab by this stage, but I was still convinced that I didn’t have a problem. Even after the humiliation of this particular incident, I still felt that my alcohol usage was under control.
I was drinking in Dun Laoghaire with some friends, and as usual I was the one who got the drunkest. People who knew me back then would say this always happened because I drank too fast – I didn’t know how to pace myself.
I must have upset my pals at some point in the evening because I ended up in the local chip shop alone. I was drunk as a skunk, but I was also ferociously hungry. I ordered curry chips with battered sausage and took this feast outside to enjoy on the pavement. My coordination was far less impressive than my sphincter control though, and the whole meal ended up covering my trousers – I’ve no idea what happened to the battered sausage.
I used to complain that there was never enough curry sauce on my chips, but there was certainly enough to completely drench my light khaki chinos. I tried to rub the sauce into the trousers, but this didn’t help at all. I also made the mistake of trying to rub some cider into it – this made things significantly worse. I was too drunk to care much about my appearance, so I just headed to the nearest bus stop to get the last bus home. There was a crowd there, and they were all taking the piss out of me, but I was too drunk to argue with them. I was starting to feel a bit ill, and I just wanted to get home
You Mad Ejit
Eventually the bus came, but the driver wouldn’t let me get on. I tried to convince him that I hadn’t shat myself, but he wouldn’t believe me. This was the last bus home, and I felt really desperate. I was basically pleading with him, but he wasn’t having any of it. I offered to let him smell my trousers, but he wasn’t interested. The people on the downstairs of the bus started to get restless. I’m not sure if it was the bus driver but someone shouted at me, “you can’t get on the bus in that fucking state you mad ejit.”
I was staying in my grandmother’s house in Sallynoggin which was only about a 3 mile walk from Dun Laoghaire. The state I was in though, it was like asking me to climb Mount Everest without oxygen. I don’t actually remember much about the walk only that it felt very long. I remember walking through the town and people laughing at me. I might have cried at some stage. I don’t remember actually arriving at my grandmother’s house but that’s where I woke up. I’m sure there were lots of people who knew me and saw me that night who were convinced I’d shat myself.
These Days I Don’t Have to Convince Other People that I Haven’t Shat Myself
I’m not exactly sure what triggered these memories of the curry incident today – I’m even less sure about why I decided to share it on here. Maybe my subconscious (or the universe) thinks that I’ve been taking things for granted too much recently and that I need a reminder. It is easy for me to forget just how much my life has changed since given up alcohol, but when I think about this incident it is obvious that I’ve come a long way. These days I’m never in a situation where I have to convince people I haven’t shat myself.