In anticipation of a hangover

There are some days when you finish work and you feel that all is right with the world. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, your boss didn't annoy you too much and you've just been paid.
And there are other days when you finish work and you just think, "I need a drink." Today is one of these days.

Luckily for me, one of my beer monsters, I mean, friends, is in town tonight, and is ready for action! And so, without further ado, I'd like to dedicate this blog to tomorrow's hangover.
I love those nights when you go out, usually "just for one", and you know in your heart that you're not going to be doing any work tomorrow. In fact, if you make it into work tomorrow, it'll be a frickin' miracle. You won't be capable of much more than drinking a pint of lucozade and eating a few bites of a bacon sandwich, whilst trying to piece together the last few hours of last night.

Your head will pound, your stomach will roll, your muscles will ache and your arms will be covered in those tiny little bruises that look like someone's been stabbing you with a pencil all night long. So much pain, so much agony. Is it really worth it?

Of course it is! And here's why!

The first beer of the night. He Who Provides The Beer places that first glass of heaven on the bar in front of you, and all you have to do is give him some metal discs in return. You lift up the cold glass, feeling the reassuring weight of the amber nectar inside, and return to your seat. You don't take a sip straight away, no. Instead, you gaze upon its glory for a little while, marvelling in the neverending stream of tiny bubbles that race their way to the top. You watch the slow lazy trickle of condensation on the outside of the glass. You shiver in anticipation of that first sip.
You lift the glass to your lips and drink. The bubbles burst on your tongue and then the cold liquid hits the back of your mouth and slides down your throat, all the way to your stomach. You delight in the instant sensation of the cold elixir moving down your throat, immediately followed by the heat of the alcohol, warming your torso and slowly spreading to encompass your entire body.

You take another sip. You accidentally gulp too much liquid and the bubbles fizz up your nose, not unpleasantly, tickling you from the inside. With each succeeding mouthful, you become more and more convinced that, truly, this is the drink of gods.

Whilst the converstation flows around you, the warm feeling spreads to your brain, wrapping it in cotton wool, and you become convinced of the goodness inherent in everything and everyone around you. All your problems start to melt away and everything seems bathed in a fuzzy amber glow.

You decide to order another beer. It would be rude to leave now! It would be an affront to the gods, the givers of life and beer! He Who Provides The Beer smiles at you with approval as you order a second drink from the holy grail. He places the second glass of frosty nirvana on the bar in front of you, you exchange metal, and return to your table holding the glass aloft. You stare at the glass again, and your body tingles in anticipation...

That is why one beer is never enough. That is why hangovers are worth it. That is why beer will never go out of fashion.

Hangover, I salute you!