Happy & Healthy

FROM THE SERIES RENSKE & DRINK: THREE FRESH ANECDOTES

Because everyone is such a fan of my pieces about drunkenness, here are the three most bizarre and embarrassing things I've done while drunk. Plus, of course, the lessons I've learned from it. I say: it doesn't get any better than this! Or well, maybe it does, but today you'll have to make do with this.

1. Japanese whiskey vs The yellow dress of Vanilia 

Do you remember the beautiful yellow dress of Vanilia? Well, it's not so beautiful anymore, because I recently got so hysterically drunk on Japanese (!) whiskey at the fantastic restaurant Kaagman & Kortekaas that you wouldn't want to know. Or well, you do want to know, because you're reading this. Anyway, that whiskey tasted like very special summery flowers and I think: if you say no to that, you're just a thief of your own um, drink.

Something like that.

On the way back, I still had everything under control, until I unexpectedly got my bike stuck in the handlebars of my friend's bike. There I was in my yellow dress with my cheek stuck to the street. That's a bummer, you know. Especially at 35. You don't want to be lying there with your cheek stuck to the street. I remember looking down the street from the ground, and trying with all my might to focus my vision. Because I wanted to know if a car would soon drive over me. Luckily, there was no one on the street anymore. And no dog. And no car. So I was reassured. Which made me drift off for a moment and think of my favorite scene in The Notebook, where Noah and Allie are also lying in the street in the middle of the night, becoming hopelessly in love and going to eat a soft serve ice cream together. That's the next day, when they walk through the village together. But then I fortunately came to my senses and realized that I was in a slightly less favorable situation. My dress was torn, my laptop was on the street (it was in my bike crate), there was no ice cream to be seen anywhere, and I suddenly spotted a bunch of bystanders who wanted to help. Well-intentioned maybe, but I can't stand that kind of disaster tourism. So I waved my hands in the air a bit and shouted things like: it's fine, nothing to see here, just keep driving, thanks for the attention, the show is over, we really only had a veeeery small glass to drink tonight, the street is just super poorly set up for cyclists!!

Conclusion: I need a new yellow dress AND I need to know where they sell that Japanese whiskey.

2. The campsite owner who saw us under the table

We were with my brother-in-law and sister-in-law at a small-scale French campsite run by an old French man with a beret, a mustache, and a decorated walking stick. We were having a great time and always went drinking in the evenings, but then something happened. One evening, the wine suddenly ran out, and it was only 00:30. Well, what do you do then? Simple. You just go looking for a caravan where there's still light on. Because where there's light, there are people, and where there are people, there's wine. Especially if they're French. And so it happened that I suddenly found myself swaying in the eighties caravan of a complete stranger. Who still had some bottles for sale, mind you. An embarrassing negotiation followed, and eventually, I slapped four ten-euro notes on his folding table. For two life-saving bottles of vin rrrrlllrrouge. What luck! What a deal! I walked back to our tent satisfied. And I tell you: I had never been welcomed so enthusiastically before. But the best part was yet to come: it got later and later and later, and suddenly we had the music turned up loud and were talking about penises. I said: you shouldn't do that kind of thing at a small cute French campsite that prides itself on peace according to the brochure. And so the campsite owner shuffled over to our side in the dead of night. Well, we crawled under the table out of fear (!). Seriously, I can still picture that walking stick getting closer and closer. How did it end? Don't ask me why, but the walking stick eventually wandered off again, even though the poor man must have definitely heard us. Or he was deaf. Maybe he was deaf? That must be it, because he was still very nice the next day. Unlike our immediate neighbors. But the man we bought the wine from was very nice again? Very confusing all of it.

Conclusion: always bring enough wine on vacation.

3. About vomit and tiled floors

I've saved the worst for last. Writing this down, I find it so terrible. But everything for a laugh on your little faces.

I was (a long time ago, really a long time ago) on vacation in southern Spain with a group of friends and my boyfriend. We had booked a large holiday villa, one of those youth places with IKEA furniture and tiled floors. We had been partying hard and were completely wasted around 05:30. Nothing to worry about, until my boyfriend suddenly became restless around 08:30. I thought: wow, he's active early! But the real connoisseur knows what’s coming. I heard a squeaky ‘I need to vomit’ and saw him shoot upright and run to the bathroom. Only, now comes the kicker: he didn't make it. While running, HE VOMITED ALL OVER THE HALLWAY. Eventually, he landed with a loud thud in the bathtub, and so I (also drunk) ran to him to see if he was hurt. But yeah. Then I slipped on his vomit. Seriously. Slipped on his vomit! Fuck that shit! How bad do you want it? Luckily, it all ended well, because they have showers, cleaning supplies, perseverance, and unconditional love for that. But still. Alcohol is a bitch.

Conclusion: never book a holiday villa with a tiled floor.