Iced: File that one under "Experience"

Much like, say, having a baby or having a second baby, a lot of things out there sound like they'd be really fun, or a really good idea, or totally awesome, but then end up being really, really not awesome at all. In fact, almost everything bad that has happened to me (see above) has started out as a good idea at the time.

This is one of those things.

My coworker, Matt, told me about a "game" that he and his buddies play, in which you hide bottles of Smirnoff Ice. If you come across one of these hidden bottles, you must get down on one knee and chug it, immediately. He said that, the last time they went camping, by the end of the weekend, they were all huddled around the campfire, traumatized, afraid to move in case they found another one.

Don't ask me where the "taking a knee" comes from, but it totally adds to the cachet of this game. Which sounded like the Best Game Ever. And which we have agreed to call "Icing" or "Getting Iced".

I even brought some Ices to work (clinking all the way), and, with the help of my supervisor, planted one in a top-secret briefcase (the kind that comes with a key, but no handcuffs, alas), and set up my coworker to open it. He refused to drink it at work (something about getting fired), but proclaimed us the coolest office on the planet.*

SO, I told my Mystique cottage cohorts about it, and we all agreed that it would be super fun! What a great game! We'd each bring tons of Smirnoff Ice to the cottage weekend in July, hide them about, and let the hilarity ensue!

Fast forward to last weekend, in which I finally Iced Matt for real. It was a quasi-elegant Christmas soiree at my boss's house, and we were all drinking a wee bit (I'd only had 2 1/2 glasses of wine, honest). We tricked Matt into grabbing something out of my bag... and lo and behold, it was a nicely-chilled Ice. I must say that he rose to the occasion, took a knee, and chugged it forthwith. It was quite impressive, really.

Until it was time to go home. Chris and I had our coats on, saying our goodbyes, and Matt handed my bag back. He said, "Are you sure it's yours? Does it have your stuff in it?"

Yup, an Ice. Down I went. And ... sipped it embarrassingly, with my pinky in the air. I can't even chug water (probably due to an overactive epiglottis**) so I did what I could. I made it through about a third of that sucker, pausing way too briefly between each dainty sip, before I was rescued - due to pity or disgust I don't know, but it was the worst third of a drink I have ever drank. It was TERRIBLE. It is NOT a fun game.

Five minutes later, I felt like I had done 6 shots. I babbled to Chris the whole way home, and forgot to drink water before I went to bed. The next morning, I was dry-mouthed, slightly nauseous, and headachey.

But I vow, and I vow it publicly: this is not over. It is NOT a fun game, but it's a game I intend to win.



* Still have them. My snack drawer clinks suspiciously, but I keep them just in case.

** I've never had it professionally tested (by an epiglottiologist, of course), but I wonder if an official diagnosis would count as a disability? "I am epiglottically challenged".