MikeH wrote: Our advice to the folks based here: No matter how accomplished you are as a drinker, never, never, never try to keep up with anyone from GB. That includes the GB women; it will be embarassing when she has one more for the road, carries you to the car, then drives you home.
Pffft. You need to visit Finland. I went to Helsinki at age 24 to visit a friend there. She and her brother Yukka took me out to a bar during an endless day of Summer. First of all, they drink their beer in liter glasses. Secondly, they drink like GD fish! As recounted elsewhere, I have a high tolerance for alcohol and have never had a hangover no matter how much I've drunk (I have been sick twice, though) -- but those Finns, including my friend, a little slip of a woman who couldn't have weighed more than 100 lb, all drank beer at twice the rate that I did. By the time I'd had 7 liters of beer, I was easily 4-5 liters behind the natives and they weren't showing any effects beyond talking a bit more volubly than is their wont. It was at that point during the evening/morning/whatever that events took a sudden turn for the worse: I was recounting some no doubt hilarious story to Yukka and my friend Anna when I gestured a bit too violently with my left hand and knocked my litre of beer into the lap of the young lady sitting to my immediate left. She was none too pleased and proceeded to let me know what she thought of me, Americans in general and America itself in no uncertain terms (this was the Reagan era and Finland wasn't a big fan of his). After letting me know all about my various shortcomings in life, she calmed down and we began a more civilized chat. In short order, I'd bought her a beer as partial recompense for the indignity I'd visited upon her and she was getting quite friendly. It was at this point that my friend Anna leaned over and informed me that my new friend was in fact a prostitute. Well, that put a rather abrupt end to the budding friendship, whereupon a rather swarthy man appears out of the wings and gets into a shouting match with my friend Anna and her brother Yukka. Fortunately for us, Yukka wasn't built like his sister; far from it, he was built like a masonry outhouse. That was probably the only reason that we were able to exit the place in one piece.
You gotta love Finland.
Mark Lipton
