02-16-2018, 10:01 PM
(02-16-2018, 06:38 PM)Wes Mantooth Wrote: I went to Panama City in the late 90's at the age of 18, with a trunkload full of shat like Red Dog and IceHouse (All my fellow old people, stand up!). My drinking tolerance was still developing and even a small gust of wind was capable of making me harder than a diamond in an ice storm.
I guess what I'm getting is, I've probably had worse.
Ugh. I drank Icehouse exactly one time. Back in 1998 when I was 17, I went to a party where the only person I knew was my girlfriend's bff (she took me there). We drank plenty of Icehouse, some Zima with jolly ranchers (more old school stuff) and Everclear shots. The girl I knew wound up barfing in the bushes outside. I was lightweight teasing her about it, saying "it's alright, we all puke sometimes" yada yada.
Well she goes to a bedroom to pass out, suddenly everyone bails and I'm left alone in this apartment with a couple I didn't know. Then they turned out all the lights and went to bed. This is like midnight. As soon as they hit that light, I got a hardcore case of the spins and puked all over myself and their couch. It was awful. Then they came back out to the living room and told me to clean up...when I could even move.
They wound up moving me off the couch and cleaning it up themselves.
Next morning, I found out one of the dudes that left the night before stole my favorite adidas hoodie. Worst night ever.
The training, nutrition, medicine, fitness, playbooks and rules evolve. The athlete does not.
