We always had to show off when drinking. Something stupid, like climbing a fire escape, or running between traffic. This had been the case since our early teens. But everything got out of hand after we hit thirty. Perhaps it was desperation. A chance to prove we still had bottle in the face of our upcoming middle age. Whatever the reason, our bluster sealed my fate.
On each of the group's birthday we made them a dirty pint. On that special day you had to down a glass of something alcoholic and disgusting. The first was beer laced with a duo of spirits. This evolved so that the stronger drinks became the baseline.
Our creations were the result of high spirits, and mostly ended with some slaps on the back, and a splash of vomit. But then we got more inventive. A raw egg. Hair from a shaven head. The contents of a tin of sardines. All in the glass and down the hatch.
When it got to my thirty-sixth year of life, I knew we were close to a tipping point. A sense this was the culmination of our adventures. So I booked a beach house for us on a July weekend. My challenge appeared on the second afternoon.
We stood in swimming trunks on the cusp of the water. A cooler formed a makeshift table, the vessel on the plastic top. But what confused me was the glass was empty. Were they going to smash it into my face?
My oldest friend went over to lapping waves, and filled the glass.
He held up the results of his action. The sea water was hazy, with grains of sand speckling the bottom. A few locks of seaweed floated near the rim. Yesterday I had read an article on coastal pollution. But this was not a situation with choice. I had to drink.
My gullet burned with the horrible goat's cheese stink of the ocean. Every part of my body screamed to reject this intruder. But I had to keep the sea water down. This was my final challenge.
Soon I had an empty pint glass. I held my trophy aloft, and everyone cheered with approval.
So now I nee to survive. Hold down that bubbling cauldron of vomit until the beach house. I have managed to keep the sea water down, despite my raging thirst. But the world is turning green. A bright emerald colour, like the sea and sky has reversed.
And my neck itches. I scratch, and discover a rubbery texture near my Adam's apple. The gaps between my fingers are thick with webbed skin. My friends are not cheering anymore. They are shouting, but their words are incomprehensible, like burbling bubbles.
I am so pleased to discover my thirst has vanished. In fact, I fancy another glass of seawater.
