Last Friday, RD took me to a posh wine bar post-dinner, where we engaged in playful banter over a glass of red wine. He chose a light one for me, knowing my alcohol tolerance is comically low. My cheeks warmed, and I felt giddy, laughing more than usual.
As we stepped outside, rain began to pour. We sprinted half a block before I started gasping for air, my chest aching. Under one umbrella, I leaned against him, my heart racing and eyelids drooping, feeling like I was having a mini-heart attack. I needed to sit down, just to catch my breath, and told him I simply wanted to sleep.
He panicked, calling my name repeatedly, giving me water and hugging me tightly. In my dreamy state, I mused that dying in his arms wouldn’t be the worst way to go. After a few minutes, the spinning stopped and I sobered up.
Moral of the story: do not drink and run.
1 comments:
That's about as bad as my accidental drink and drive incident. We both didn't realise till 3 days later & I was on my L's!
Let's just stay away from the wine. :)
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