Perhaps I should preface this by saying that I NEVER do this. I’d also like to say that I am writing this in between bites of mid-day breakfast pizza and shots of orange juice, so we all know where I’m going with this.

Sure,  I have a glass of wine with dinner. Sure, maybe two or three. Maybe I’m feeling tipsy.

Easter, however, was very different. I have no shame because I’m in Europe and I can legally drink here and if I didn’t have some fun drunk in Europe stories to tell my friends they would all be tremendously disappointed in me. I have no shame, but I do have some regret. Especially today. The morning after. Dun dun dun.

It all started when my hosts offered to include me in their Easter festivities. They’re not that religious, so this was basically just an excuse to make a ridiculous amount of food, eat it all day, and feel like you’re honoring tradition. SOUNDS FAMILIAR, NO?

This meal was amazing. My hosts were up at the crack of dawn frying up potato nests, making salads, plating cheese, arranging radishes, and putting chocolate fish in their tank (see tomorrow’s post.)

And you can’t just drink anything with a fancy meal. You drink wine. You drink lots of wine.  This is not a big deal for the French, because they drink massive amounts of wine all the time. It doesn’t feel massive. It doesn’t send them in to a tizzy.

And then, after first and second courses, you need a different wine. So, we switch wines and dive in to the next courses. But after those courses, you need something completely different. You. Need. Port.  I’d like to say that I was handling my drunkness very well. I was feelin’ good. Just. For the record.

Then we went on to dessert, and Jean-Claude pulls several bottles and small shot glasses out of the cabinet. More port and some surprisingly good mint liquor.  Then we eat more. WE ATE MORE. We ate chocolate fondue with fruit, but you need a different beverage for that too! You. Need. Cidre.

Finally. FINALLY this meal was over. I know, because everyone except for Jean-Claude was clutching at their stomachs and groaning.

My new friends and I took a walk around Grasse, I walked off some of my drunkness, the tiniest French girl at the table earlier got hungry AGAIN, and then we returned to watch some personal dramas play out in front of us. More on that later.

My purpose in telling you this is that after our walk the sun was setting and everyone was sitting on the patio. What a nice time for WINE, do you think?

Somebody did.

So, this continues a few more cycles. I have 3-4 more glasses of wine, and I finally realize my limits when I am stacking and balancing things on my face and allowing people to take pictures of it.  The proof of which is exhibited below, unfortunately.

I had a talk with myself about how far I was going to let this go, then (wisely,) brushed my teeth and put myself to bed, and that was the end of it.  Because drinking copious amounts of alcohol comes with no consequences, right? Right?!

I woke up this morning and had breakfast. There was a weird haze and a general uncomfortableness, so I put myself back in bed. Something happened to my bones and they started to kind of grumble beneath me. And then I fell asleep..a very deep, lovely sleep which lasted most of the day. It was then that I realized what was happening and took a Tylenol, put some bread in my stomach, and knocked back the OJ. And that was my first drunken Easter in France.

Lessons learned from this experience :

• Keep count of your drinks. No, really. Keep count.
• Just because it comes in a very small glass does not mean that it will only affect you a little. You already knew this, but that knowledge would have been put to good use that day.
• Keep cameras away from friends when you are drunk.
• Tylenol makes the world stop going ’round.
• Hangovers DO exist, Carsen. They are not myths that your parents tell you to stop you from drinking.