Something Very Bad

Time to cry outrage.

Thanksgiving is done, NaNoWriMo is done. And now it's time to speak about something I was told a week or so ago that has been bugging me like crazy.

We were at a restaurant bar, where we have been accustomed to eating lunch now and then. The two bartenders were giddily gossping with one of the waiters, and afterwards, apparently thinking we'd overheard their conversation, one of the bartenders, a young woman in her early twenties by all indications, came over and said, among other things, "I probably shouldn't mention it, but one of our friends is a paramedic, and he gives us a saline drip if we're hung over. You know," she chattered on, "you only get them if you're dehydrated, and the IV just puts fluid back into your body fast. I know, we shouldn't get that drunk, but oh well, you know, young people just party hard, just crazy kids."

I don't remember what we mumbled to make her get back to work; I just wanted her to stop telling me shit that I never wanted to hear had ever happened -- let alone, happened regularly.

Okay, not only is it stupid to drink so much you're hung over ONCE, but having done so ONCE, it's far more stupid to not recognize what will do it again. (Now in fact, I think it took me three episodes in college to understand that even ONE mixed drink would cause me three days of painful joints and nausea; since then I do not drink anything -- anything! with hard liquor in it. Love the scent and taste of gin; NEVER drink it.) Well, alcohol does impair reasoning, and some people don't learn easily. Stupid, but repeat bingeing does happen.

But I can't think of what rank of stupidity it takes to get hung over to the point where you think an IV drip is an acceptable solution. "Morning, Dwayne, hey, listen, I'm so hung over I think I'm going to die. Can Suzy and Debbie and me come over for an IV this morning? Thanks, Dwayne, you're a peach." Needle holes in the arms every weekend. Oh, great. What a problem-solver is Mankind!

From the way the girl talked and twitched, and how skinny she was, I wouldn't be surprised to learn she was ingesting a lot more dangerous stuff than alcohol. I couldn't smell her, so my guess would be cocaine rather than meth; on the other hand, I was coming down with a cold so the ugly chemical smell of meth could have just not reached my nose. Her whole demeanor about the incident was that this was What Young People Do.

I was digusted.

And on another level, I was appalled that someone who is a paramedic would be doing hang-over drips on the side. I don't know about the legality of it; there are tons of catalogs that sell veterinary supplies (including syringes and needles) that I could buy from without having any kind of veterinary background ... maybe this paramedic buys all his supplies and isn't using his employer's. Legality aside, there is an ethical issue here, isn't there? It wasn't "He gave our friend Irving an IV because Irving was so sick" is was "He gives us" -- a recurring theme. How could he? And would I want my life in the hands of someone who thinks that IV's are a recreational tool?

No wonder medical costs are so damn astronomical. Black market hangover cures. What a world.