HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Oh. Forgive me. I just realized my enthusiastic salutation might be a bit too acute for those of you who may have excessively celebrated the demise of a year that was already not unlike a bad hangover. So for that I apologize, and will do my best to keep any further bold or capital letters to a minimum throughout the remainder of this piece to keep your aching head from pounding any further.
I wish I could offer a cure for the uncomfortable condition in which you find yourself, but alas, I cannot, because (and I know you don’t want to hear this at any volume, high or otherwise) there really isn’t one, despite the amazing advances of science.
Since it’s too late to tell you how to prevent the ultimate curse of the spirit world now that you’ve hoisted on high one glass too many, accompanied either by the strains of “Auld Lang Syne” played by Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians, or the beat of Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Years Eve (which always gave me a headache even without alcohol) . . . and since time has passed for me to offer any advice as to how best to minimize the damage, like prefacing your party with a glass of milk or a tray of hors d’oeuvres and drinking vodka or gin instead of bourbon or red wine along with the copious amounts of Gatorade required to keep you from dehydrating . . . I can only pass on a few remedies that might alleviate some discomfort, but they are treatments I am reluctant to guarantee.
If your head feels close to exploding, like it’s center stage to that Jimi Hendrix experience performed at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967 where he kneels over his guitar all ablaze after fretting the most amazing version of the “Star Spangled Banner” ever electrified, you’re probably in need of some kind of painkiller.
That would be aspirin, but medicos agree that while this might somewhat relieve the ache, it can inspire your stomach or liver to further revolt en masse more than they already have.
If your brain feels more bruised than battered, like it has entertained one too many choruses harmonized by the Carpenters, then it’s your own darn fault for listening to them in the first place.
I might suggest Alka-Seltzer, but even that fizzy concoction has its perils, as once related to me by one WWII veteran who recalled being stationed in Britain when, after a night of revelry, he offered a white tablet of this particular medicine to an English comrade unfamiliar with the remedy, who swallowed what looked to him like a large pill with a glass of water, which immediately caused him to writhe around on the floor with foam coming out of his mouth, prompting him to believe and frantically vocalize between burps that his American buddies were out to get him, much to their hilarity and his chagrin.
I could also recommend, as some people do, that you consume a sturdy grilled and greasy bacon, egg and cheese sandwich, but frankly (just between you and me) the thought of trying to digest that kind of payload the morning after anything I find kind of nauseating anyway, and I’m sorry for using any word stemming from nausea, given your current dilemma.
Perhaps you might try a shot of fructose or glucose, which can be found in a can or bottle of tomato or orange juice, but then you may feel tempted to graze the proverbial hair of the dog by adding to either of nature’s nectars the vodka that brought on your hangover in the first place, and although the procedure is sworn by in some circles, many say it just exacerbates and prolongs your suffering.
You might want to avoid coffee, by the way, because all that does is dehydrate you further and wakes you up enough so you not only realize just how much pain you’re in but also reminds you of the evening before—which I’m sure you’d just as soon forget.
If there is a banana on your kitchen counter, or any vitamins in your medicine cabinet, or a jar of honey in your pantry, you haven’t got anything to lose by swallowing any or all, as any or all may aid you in your quest for relief, but you might want to think twice before experimenting with home remedies like skullcap tea or the extract from certain artichokes, if you can think at all.
Ultimately, however, I’m afraid time is the only tonic, and sleep the only antidote. Hopefully you’ll awake to a more joyous and prosperous new year, one that proffers not only a cure for the hangover we all seem to have, but to all of mankind’s current ailments.
HERE’S TO 2020!
Oh. Sorry about that.