A comprehensive history of hangovers

After sharing a few green beers with friends on St Pat's day and nursing my hangover, I thought back to the hangovers I've known and loved.

There was my post-Rat-Pack-themed-party hangover, when I spent the day after -- my housewarming! -- attempting not to make any sudden movements while regretting each vodka martini I'd upended.

There was the particularly hairy-tongued post-New Year's party hangover, memorable because on my way home on Military Road, I had a flat tire and I'd had to change it by the curb, my hands moving on autopilot.

Then a few weeks ago, my mate John who has a memorable collection of wines in his cellar (curse his hobby) decided to introduce me to a few specials he had. The rest is history and all I remember is that hangover was one of my greatest achievements.

But probably my favorite hangover was during my first year at Melbourne University. That's where they taught me to drink amongst other interesting things.

Leonid Brezhnev had just died, and my mate, Pat, and I decided to mark his passing by toasting the occasion with Bulgarian wine. Bulgarian wine was not as easy to get then as it is today, but for some reason -- an overestimation of Melbourne's Bulgarian population, perhaps -- but the liquor store near our flat stocked it.

Bulgarian wine tastes pretty much like you would expect it to taste, but after the first three or four glasses you are able to shed your natural reluctance to putting the ghastly stuff near your lips. After two or three bottles you even start to enjoy it, not because it tastes good but because you're proud of yourself for enduring it, the same way I imagine you feel some pride after walking barefoot across hot coals.

We drank through the night and before lecture the next morning went to a cafe for breakfast. We had spent all our cash on Bulgarian wine, however, so only had enough money for a coffee and an order of toast.

A good hangover is like a good movie: entertaining, educational, satisfying. A good hangover should be part of a narrative arc, the final act of a drama that began the night before. Whether it's played for comedy or tragedy, well, that largely depends on the night before.

People might disagree on whether a hangover is immoral, but certainly all hangovers are chemical. No matter what you've been drinking --

Bulgarian wine, Scotch whisky, Guinness -- chemically speaking, it all comes down to ethyl alcohol -- or, as chemists know it, C2H5OH.

"Chemistry is not a strictly academic subject," a commentator said at a seminar I attended yesterday. "It's also something that affects your regular life."

She was wearing green shamrock deelyboppers on her head. She has been giving a St Patrick's Day-themed seminar for eight years.

Humans have been drinking alcohol -- and, presumably, waking up regretting it -- since at least 3700 B.C., she said. (Those were the Egyptians. It's a wonder they got the pyramids built at all.)

Yes, the ethyl alcohol in whatever poison you're drinking can give you a hangover the next day, but you're just as likely to suffer from the byproducts of fermentation, what are called cogeners. (I think Bulgarian wine is about 90 percent cogeners.)

She moved up the ladder of inebriation: .02 blood alcohol level and a drinker typically experiences mild throbbing and a touch of dizziness; at .03 come feelings of euphoria and superiority; at .05, normal inhibitions are almost eliminated.

She said: "Many liberties are taken. I don't need to say more."

She did say a little more: Alcohol can provoke desire, but it typically ruins your ability. "I know you want to say, 'Not me,' but we'd all have to be there to pass judgment on that."

There was nervous laughter from me and my fellow seminar attendees.

On a lighter note ...the next seminar is not for 6 months unless my company decides to "educate" me further.

Perhaps I won't have a hangover.