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hockey, liquor and passing out on the lawn

Shot.jpeMac wrote yesterday about the new minor league hockey team in Birmingham. Yes, hockey.

The Alabama team will be part of the WHA2:

The WHA2, which begins its inaugural season this fall, will be the principal minor league for a rebirth of the old WHA, which begins play in 2004.

Now, I don't get where the people who came up with the "rebirth" of the WHA got the idea that there was room for another hockey league in the world. Last I checked, the NHL wasn't exactly getting fans breaking down the doors to get into their games.

Anyhow, the Alabama team has finally chosen a name: The Alabama Slammers.

And now, I will never be able to cheer for, watch or have anything to do with that team. See, the words Alabama and Slammer put together cause a stream of bile to force its way up into my throat. In fact, my stomach is clenching right now.

August, 1980. My 18th birthday. This is when the drinking age was still 18. We went to a bar in Syosset to celebrate. The Upper Deck, affectionately known to us as The Upper Wreck.

We sat in a corner booth and the festivities began. Our 18th birthday ritual was as such: 18 shots each of two different drinks. Not just shots of liquor, but shots of drinks meant to be sweet and cloying. 18th birthdays weren't really a celebration for us, they were an excuse to torture each other.

First up, 18 shots of Kamikazes. Vodka, Triple Sec and lime juice. That stuff makes your teeth hurt. I took my shots like a man, downing them all in 30 seconds flat. I smiled for the Polaroid camera shots. For a person whose nickname was "One Drink Michele," I was handling my liquor just fine.

Next up, 18 shots of Alabama Slammers. Southern Comfort, Amaretto, Sloe Gin and lemon juice. Took me a little longer to get these drinks down, but I managed just fine.

We talked, we laughed, we sat there for what seemed like hours while I enjoyed a nice, light buzz.

Wow, I'm not even drunk, I remember saying. So I had a few beers and a couple of shots of 151 rum.

And then I stood up. And the world went away.

I don't remember much after that point except laying on the grass next to the parking lot remarking on how much the moon looked like my ex-boyfriend's ass.

I woke up the next morning in my own bed, still in my clothes from the night before. There were grass stains on my knees and my shirt smelled like vomit. My hair was sticky and stringy.

How the hell did I get home? What did I do before I got here?

I quickly called my friend Mary who was with me the night before.

She assured me that the grass stains on my knees should not trouble me. They were just from the hour I spent leaning over the grass throwign up. We were driven home by one of the bartenders. Mary's car was still in Syosset.

I spent that entire day walking between my bed and the bathroom. And I swore off drinking, at least Alabama Slammers.

So, unfortunatley, I won't be joining the Slammers fan club. Not that hockey in Birmingham is worth taking seriously, anyhow.

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Comments

"I spent that entire day walking between my bed and the bathroom. And I swore off drinking, at least Alabama Slammers.

"So, unfortu"

Don't tell me you had to go hurl just now!

Whoops. Hit "save" too soon. Maybe I need a drink.

Thanks for the heads up, all fixed now.

I remember the Alabama Slammers with Orange Juice instead of Lemon Juice. Tasted Like Hawiian (sp?) punch.

If you added Vodka it became a slow southern screw. Those were the days :)

Ahhhhh...drinking Southern Comfort while actually living in 'Bama... Those were the days!

they aren't bad without either the amaretto or the sloe gin. too gaggy with both. i like sloe comfortable screws better too. add galliano and it become as sloe comfortable screw against the wall. and much harder to swallow.

I can't believe you used to hang out at the upper deck. Ever have a little kid clear your empties for you there?

First of all, the new hockey league is going to test the waters (or the ice so to speak) because the NHL might have a work stoppage next season, it could be a quick fix for fans/players maybe even owners that are upset with how horribly the NHL is run.

Secondly, I wonder if the Alabama Slammers might all drown in spring training (sorry couldn't resist).

Thirdly, one good story deserves...well...my feeble attempt.

I went to a denominational boarding Academy. Worship was required, and record was taken at church on the weekends. Naturally, at 17 or so we rebelled. One day before church (yes 8AMish or so) we decided it would be a good idea to drink a bottle of Southern Comfort. I drank about a pint chased by warm Mountain Dew. Not recommended that you try this at home or anywhere else for that matter. 

For those of you that have never heaved loudly in the middle of church, let me assure you, it does attract attention. 

Not one of my prouder moments.

Ever since we "unaffectionately" referred to Southern Comfort as Southern Discomfort. Seemed a more accurate label.

 

They could call themselves the "Alabama Lynchers".

I told you sweet liquor was not your friend! BTW, Birmingham is in "northern" Alabama. I've driven through twice and been pulled over twice.

The "turning eighteen" ritual when I was eighteen (1964) was to drink one different drink after another, without a repeat, UNTIL... Guaranteed blackout and vomit...

Drinking one night in of the many Long Island bowling alley bars, there were 10 of us sitting around and somebody yelled "Slammer Time". Everyone puts a $1 on the bar and a beer pitcher full of Alabama Slammers starts at one end of the bar and each person drinks what they can. If the pitcher is empty by the last contestant, it gets refilled for free and this keeps going until you can't drink anymore. That night, 10 of us, drank ourselves blind doing 7 pitchers of "Slammers"...

I was fine until we left and went to White Castle for a bite to eat. Right after that when when I lost it. Literally...

There's always room for more hockey!!!

Best team name ever: The Macon Whoopee. Sadly, they are no more. I do have one of their jerseys in my collection, though--yay me!

My 18th was spent with my dear friend Jack Daniels. Now I can't even smell it without getting the dry heaves. When tending bar I always had to have someone else make drinks involving JD!

At least they didn't name themselves The Montgomery Biscuits.

Oh, and sorry about not calling you - this unemployment, job hunting thing is keeping me busy with rather odd hours. But soon, soon...

Damnit, woman, you stripped my link:

http://www.worldwiderant.com/archives/001377.html