Belfast. Circa Summer 2003
"Right Tots, let's do this shit!"
Tot's looked up at me nervously, then towards the bundle of notes and coins I had thrown down in the centre of the table.
Tonight we were on a mission.
I had travelled all the way up from Dublin, to join him in Belfast for the night. I rarely venture up to the North so it would be a welcome change from the over-priced, congested Temple bar of Dublin. Tot's would be a tour guide of sorts tonight showing me what the city had to offer. I didn't know Belfast at all, and I was scheduled to stay in his flat that night...but I'd get the actual address off him later...For now, I would need to stick to him like glue. Last thing I needed to do was to lose him, especially when the drinks were flowing.
However, tonight the beers clearly weren't flowing fast enough. It was almost 9pm for Christ's sake! Time to play hard ball.
He smiled nervously at me, then slumped forward holding his head in his hands in mock resignation. We both knew where this was going.
"8 shots mate. It's party time." I said with conviction. "It's on me. Ask for the most toxic shot behind the bar."
With reluctance, Tot's lifted himself to his feet, scooping the money into an open palm and staggered over to the bar. He didn't quite look as fresh as I felt. He'll soon catch up I thought.
He came back a few minutes later with a tray of 8 shots, neatly lined side by side.
"What are those?" I asked, as he lowered them carefully to the table.
"Absinthe."
"Oh right. Didn't think they were allowed to serve more than 1 to a punter. They must be watered down then. Down in one?"
The first one lit a sticky trail of fire right down my throat. It nearly came back up, were it not for my constant swallows of spit to douse the flames. I couldn't show any weakness in front of Tot's. I had a reputation to upkeep. After all, I was the seasoned hard-core boozer from Dublin that promised to drink him under the table tonight. Within 30 seconds, I had taken my other three. Tots feigned illness for his own, and I ridiculed him for not being able to finish the round, slurping up his remaining two in quick succession, licking my sticky absinthe fingers to prove my point.
"Piece of piss mate! It's your round!" I forced a smile, pointing to the bar, to prompt him to leave quickly as I waged battle with my gag reflex. This wasn't going to be pretty. Please go now Tot's. I'll slip out to the toilet when you're at the bar and throw up. Ah Christ. Help me. Swallow. Maybe if I hold my head up and look at the ceiling, and swallow. Swallow.
In my periphery I saw him get up and move over to the bar.
That was my last conscious memory until I awoke, curled up in a side street in complete darkness, shirtless and a streak of vomit down the side of my face. I rolled over on the sharp pebbled surface to dig out my phone. The battery had died. My watch showed it was 4am, and I was completely alone and lost.
To be continued
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