Mind the Baby
Abbi and I went out on Friday night to the Clarendon Bar and Grill. It’s metro train accessible. She told me when she met me there that she had just had three glasses of wine with some folks after work. Three vodka and cranberries later, I could tell she was pretty smashed. Abbi is a very shy person, and I guess she uses the alcohol to lower her inhibitions enough to talk to people. She started conversing with people, mostly to “try” their alcohol. She asked some strange guy for his drink! She bought another vodka drink and drank it pretty fast. By then she was at the stumbling around stage. She kept telling me that she knows her limits, but clearly she doesn’t. She ordered two more drinks, and I pried them out of her hands and threw them away. She staggered up to me to ask where her drinks were and called me a few names when I told her I got rid of them. Then she told me she wanted to go just as it started to pour. I had to get her to back off from me for a minute to say goodbye to my friends. I walked her down to the metro with her sloshing all over me…. And we managed to get down to the platform to wait for a train. I asked her to sit and drink some water, and she told me she doesn’t take orders well and left. I went and found a cop who checks the gates at the station to make sure she hadn’t fallen somewhere and would be run over by the train. When I got home, she called me and told me she was on the bus to get home, but she wasn’t sure how she got there. I guess she blacked out for a bit.
The next day I told John what happened. Talk about your awkward conversations. “Your daughter is fucked up; you have to talk to her.” He told me it took her a while to grasp that being so sloppy drunk that I had to take care of her pissed me off a lot more than anything she said to me. It’s not even that this is a one time thing; it happens all the time alcohol and Abbi mix. (See my cruise recap) She lost her IDs and her metro pass during the evening too. I have no problem hanging out with her, but not where there is alcohol.
The next day I told John what happened. Talk about your awkward conversations. “Your daughter is fucked up; you have to talk to her.” He told me it took her a while to grasp that being so sloppy drunk that I had to take care of her pissed me off a lot more than anything she said to me. It’s not even that this is a one time thing; it happens all the time alcohol and Abbi mix. (See my cruise recap) She lost her IDs and her metro pass during the evening too. I have no problem hanging out with her, but not where there is alcohol.
2 Comments:
Man! I couldn't tolerate her at all. Thankfully, you had John to talk to her. Not sure if it will make a difference.
Babysitting sloppy drunks is the worst. *hugs* to you for trying.
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