Thinking about taking an alcoholiday?

It all starts with a couple of beers and a few shots of tequila. You had been against drinking from the start, but after several more Heinekens at the counter, your date (who looks like the Wicked Witch of the West), suddenly doesn’t appear that bad at all.

Yes, folks, we’re talking about the magic of alcohol.

It is, legally, the most practical (available?) escape from reality. It is also a great companion to have when problems start to meddle with everyday life. Whether you lost a job, failed in school, or got dumped by a girlfriend, downing a bottle of aged brandy makes the pain go away – at least for the next few hours. It’s as if you’re in this magical world and anything you want can happen.

Many times when you’re drunk, Alice in Wonderland does not seem like a far-fetched story after all. I mean, when the world around you is already spinning at the fat ladies at the opposite table look like high school cheerleaders, then you might as well half expect the Tin Man or the Scarecrow to walk into the bar any minute.

You see, when Johnnie Walker joins you for the evening, fun and fantasy call you up and invite themselves for a taste of the action. And it’s usually an offer you can’t refuse. I’m not saying it’s always a good thing though, because one may always feel slighted once the alcohol has reached its peak inside your brain.

However, once you’re there, it’s as if nothing could ever go wrong; or if ever it could, you can always handle it (no matter how big it is). My friends and I have fancy and pathetically sophisticated words on what to call drunkenness – "relative solitude" or "moment of enlightenment." But being biased, I like my creation the best: "A step below Nirvana."

It is the moment when you feel you can make a significant change in the world and the time when you think you’re the star of your own movie. It’s your story and there’s no one there to tell you otherwise. And as usual, money is not an object and you keep on ordering more drinks as long as "you’re in a world of your own." You feel you can always get the cash back somehow and the question of how you will do it never worries you. In an instant, your brand new pair of slacks, which you so laboriously struggled to keep neat and uncreased the whole night suddenly looks better when it’s wrinkled.

Your pale shirt, which you bought for God-knows-how-much, quickly becomes the best investment you’ve ever made in your whole life. You might be thinking that you’re a cool guy and there’s no party going on and everyone would notice your overpriced outfit. But in truth, you’re not a cool guy and there’s no party going on. You’re the same chump, albeit, P2,000 lighter.

The magic of alcohol is that it gives you inner peace, a sense of pleasure, and fulfillment. And despite the fact that that stage is only temporary, it gives you enough leverage from going insane if your problems are as big as an elephant’s ass. And have you ever noticed how the conversation, even if the group is talking about astrophysics, sounds like phone sex? Beer makes talk livelier and more honest. In vino, veritas (In wine, truth).

It is also kind of funny how several shots of Scotch can make you think that you’re the bravest man in town. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? It makes you do things that you can never, ever do in sobriety. Whether it’s calling up your ex, picking a fight, admitting to your best friend that you’re in love with her (or him) or confessing to your lover how you’ve been fighting the AIDS virus for a long time now. Let’s call it "fake courage" because in my book, it is make believe and it is always gone once the "moment of enlightenment" subsides.

I tell you, it’s all good and lovely while it lasts. Because in the end, you’re back to where you started the night before. It is the morning after that ruins everything. And it’s no longer creative magic; it’s already a curse. That’s when you realize how much money you threw away on that last bottle of champagne, and that when you actually see that the girl you’re beside with in bed doesn’t really look like Kristine Hermosa, but more like her yaya.

That’s when you feel the remorse, too, not to mention a killer hangover turning into a very serious migraine. And you vow never to touch the stuff – until the next weekend comes around again.

Comments are nothing but welcome at reuben_matthew@hotmail.com