I’m iller and less capable of working than I’ve ever been on a work day, thanks to last night’s insane jolly. Highlights included our telesales manager buying the MD an enormous melon, which later got drop-kicked up 9th Avenue; me ordering sambuca shots for everyone in the bar on the company tab (four times); the ‘who can drink the strongest Belgian beer’ contest; and the head of marketing exclaiming “I have to leave right now. I’ve just realised I’m not just the only girl still drinking, but also the only American”. And then staying for another three hours.
Sorry. In my head this post sounded much more interesting and much less Ricky Gervaise-y. Admittedly, my head isn’t a venue of sense at the moment.
Out of interest, who could drink the strongest Belgian beer? It might not be that dangerous taken on it’s own, but I’d nominate Hoegaarden for its cumulative effect. One’s not a problem, but more than five in a row and you’re effectively munted.
The American marketing girl, as it happened; she actually *liked* the strongest beer rather than just tolerating it (in case you were wondering, the strongest beer was Delirium Tremens, which is vile).
I prefer Orval myself, although am planning not to drink any more for some time.