Places You Really Don’t Want To Be When Hungover


As you might have guessed from my last post I had a night of freedom last night. It involved considerably more gin than I’d intended. It was a fun night. But the trouble with a) getting older and b) becoming a drinking lightweight thanks to abstinence caused by pregnancy and breastfeeding is that the resulting hangover does tend to hand around far more than it ever used to.

That’s not necessarily a problem if you can stay in bed all day and sleep it off. Not a chance. I had a kids’ party to attend. This morning. For four hours!

Still, it turns out that give Noodles and Boo access to a trampoline and they’re happy. Easy-peasy. There must surely be worse places to suffer a hangover. Including…

At work
Having to be nice when wishing the whole world would just disappear. Especially harsh if your previous night’s drunken exploits have happened in the vicinity of your colleagues. Still, at least you’re going to be paid for your suffering.

In A&E
Either it’s been a very good night or a very bad one if you happen to find yourself sat in an emergency room. Waiting times can be hideously long, plenty of time for the onset for a hangover. The hard plastic seating, strip lighting and exceptionally bad coffee are hard enough to endure as it is. To do so with a banging head and dodgy stomach is even less fun, especially if there are some tricky questions that need answering. And you’re certainly not going to get any sympathy as others are in a far worse position and not necessarily through self-infliction.

At sea
Trust me on this one. The night before, as the ship tossed and pitched in a force 10 gale, drinking in the bar was preferable to feeling queasy in the cabin. The following morning the sea will feel as choppy as your mind. Sea legs aren’t aided by hangover jelly legs and ferries seem to specialise in a very particular line in nausea-inducing greasy fry-up smells. Drinking a gallon of water before disembarking is also a very very bad idea. Rehydration is a good thing, but the four-hour coach ride home is going to make you feel as though your bladder is going to burst.
Ah, the joys of yet another school trip.

In a foreign country
Particularly if it’s a different country to the one you started your night in. And you don’t have your passport.

In someone else’s bed
I would imagine. I’m not that sort of girl, I’ll have you know.

At Disneyland
The queues, the screaming, being thrown violently around on various rides, dazzling happiness at every turn, the It’s a Small World theme tune. When your look and demeanour out-scare Cruella deVille you know you should maybe just go home.

On a photo shoot
Again, a true story. It was a family shoot to back-up an exercise in trying to get my lazy-arse family to pull their weight with chores (I had to charge them for any chores I did for their benefit without help – a great idea in theory, but it didn’t work). The photographer showed up at our house (bad enough) but with no make-up artist or stylist in tow. After pre-Christmas drinks with some old uni friends the night before I was suffering. The pictures were hideous. And the company never sent me my cheque, so It wasn’t even worth the humiliation.
The only good thing was that I didn’t have the police knock on my door like my friend did. The headline, and indeed the story, could have run very differently had that been the case. Although I did learn a lesson that night: if you think it’s a good idea to get the bartender’s attention by flicking a beer tap on, then think again. Those things break surprisingly easy when mishandled. Although I would still maintain it was the bartender’s fault for only serving the pretty, young (probably underage) girls rather than us.

Ultimately the only place you really want to be waiting out a hangover is in bed with a copious supply of paracetamol, non-alcoholic beverages and bacon sandwiches.


Where’s the worst place you’ve had to endure a hangover? And what’s your top hangover cure? How unfair is it that Never Hungover isn’t sold in the UK?


14 thoughts on “Places You Really Don’t Want To Be When Hungover”

  1. The worst place I had to endure a really bad hangover – probably the worst in my life (7 years ago), was the street. Yes. I was walking in the streets, summer time, plus 1000000000 degrees… No shade, no people – no one is crazy to walk around at kiling weather (except of me party partier). Even though I had a big bottle of some juice with me packed from friend when I left his house to get to mine, by feet, I was crawling through the streets. I didn’t feel the sun, I WAS at the Sun. ๐Ÿ™‚ It is easy to laugh at it now… ๐Ÿ˜€

  2. The morning I left the UK to move back to the states for 4 years in 2008. We had stayed up the night before to play cards and finish off a bottle of scotch like a bunch of rich idiots. I would say naughty teenagers, but this was some very, very expensive scotch. Very, very bad idea. Me, my husband and son in law were dry as dust and in queasy green land on the way to the airport. (My daughter had the good sense to stay sober and get to bed early, so was driving)… we had a fry up at the airport, and between my hideous physical state and even worse mental state – leaving my then 16-month-old grandson – I cried all the way to Houston. (I really did. And for another month besides). It was truly a horrid experience. In every possible way. As for cures, I agree on the hydration and bacon sarnies. And Berocca dissolved in a pint glass of water. Followed by a water chaser. Or 2. And sleep.

    1. Oh God, that does sound truly horrible on so many levels. Very very expensive booze should at least have the grace of having no consequences the following morning.
      Good hangover cure. I shall be stocking up on Berocca for next time.

  3. Hey! You fell off my reader! I see I am behind some posts and will have to catch up? Loved your Disney references, of course! And what “sort of girl” are you anyhow?? Great post, my friend. Happy Easter!

    1. I hate it when that happens. Thank you for finding your way back.
      I’m a far more boring sort of girl. You know how they say ‘have no regrets’? I tend to regret both the frogs I kissed and the princes I turned down. Either I’m a rubbish at judging men or all men are rubbish.

  4. I had to nurse a hangover while scraping food off plates and trays in a kibbutz cafeteria in Jerusalem in 2001. Ugh. I was definitely in my early 20s then. Now that I’m in my 30s, I would probably die right there in the can I kept puking into.

  5. So, I tried replying to this in my e-mail, and I typed this nice, elaborate description of my worse place being hungover, and it wouldn’t let me post it. AND lost my response, so here I go again (probably not as elaborate, sorry). First of all, I love this post. ๐Ÿ™‚ So, I was with friends at Panama City Beach, Florida. We were on the beach after a night of heavy drinking; me mostly, because you don’t offer me $1 rum and cokes… Any who, my friend suggests we go for a walk on the beach… I tagged along, why? Because I am a dumb ass. About 20 mins in, I started feeling awful (the sun was hot, the sand was hot, I was thirsty and hot). We bummed a couple of bottles of water from other beach goers; I’m sure they saw the distress in my eyes. Dips in the ocean didn’t help either. My everything was tingling: fingers, arms, face, lips, legs.. you name it. I started freaking out, and rolling around in the sand; crying… knowing I was dying right there. Away from my home and family. (My friend later on told me that I had looked like a turd in a cat litter box, when I was rolling around in the sand). We finally made it back to the condo, and I guzzled a 32oz gatorade down, took a cold shower, and took a nap in the air conditioning. It was AMAZING! Until I woke up with blisters on my feet (because I wasn’t smart enough to wear shoes on the adventure), and a sunburn worth writing home about. I learned a valuable lesson that day: do not go to the beach when you are hungover.

    1. Oh, and I swear by anything with a tomato base such as ketchup, on something that will soak that nastiness up like fries. Also, burgers. I love to eat when I am hungover. Also, GATORADE. It may just save your life. And ps. Never go shopping for groceries when you are hung over… You will buy one of every drink they have up in there. ๐Ÿ™‚

    2. Thank you for such a vivid response. I felt parched on your behalf! I shall think of you now every time i spy a turd in a litter tray. ๐Ÿ˜‰ Cheap booze has a LOT to answer for!

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