Super Bowl Sunday Aftermath: From the End Zone to the Office

Super Bowl Aftermath

When I was still drinking, Super Bowl Sunday was always followed by a dreadful, hungover Monday. Even though I never watched sports, or cared about anything other than my pool numbers, I always drank like a monster.

While some drinkers can turn any old day into a drinking occasion, certain calendar markers can become just that — an excuse to get drunk. St. Patrick’s Day, the night before Thanksgiving, and of course, Super Bowl Sunday are all days where it seems drunkenness is a bit of an expectation.

Super Bowl was always a good excuse for me as I would use any excuse to get drunk, including a bunch of dudes playing a game I had zero interest in. I wasn’t excited about the commercials, the halftime show, the food, or our friends coming over. I was excited because I could get drunk, and no one seemed to really care (or so, I thought).

But the problem for me was that this big drinking event always happened on a Sunday. That meant I had to work the next day. I would typically try to cut my drinking off by 9pm on “regular Sundays” and I would lie to myself and say I would do the same on Super Bowl Sunday. But I never did. 

Soon enough, I would be drunk and start the “I’ll just take Advil in the morning” or “I’ll be fine” forecasting that justified my urge to continue drinking, ignoring the fact that I had to work the next day. And very quickly, Monday morning would arrive and I’d be DEAD for work.

After waking up with a paralyzing hangover one Monday after Super Bowl, I called in sick to work. My boss, who knew of my penchant for booze, called my bluff and that Tuesday when I shamefully walked into the office, he chewed me out. That taught me not to call in sick to work again after a Super Bowl. And you would think that would be enough for me to not over-do it again. Nope.

I suffered through so many horrid Super Bowl Monday’s at work. I’d be riddled with hangxiety, nervous fatigue, nausea, and shame while trying to produce some spreadsheet while praying for 5 o’clock — which seemed to never arrive.

God, I do not miss that. 

This will be my third sober Super Bowl Sunday and while I may have lamented missing out on the drinking for my first sober Super Bowl, I don’t anymore. I know that today I am taking care of myself for tomorrow, and that I won’t wake up with fear, dread and the pain of a hangover while at work in the morning. I can enjoy the commercials, the halftime show, the food and the company without worrying about being a shitty employee when I punch in.

And ironically, since I continue to not care about football, I still won’t remember who wins the game — even though I’m sober.


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