Hair of the Dog

The other night I did something that I had never done before. I let my hangover get in the way of me doing my job. In my defense, it was Easter Sunday. That sounds strange, but on the night before Easter we have to close at midnight, so that means an extra three hours of staff drinks. So we all put too many drinks on our tabs, sat around on the couches and hung out. It was great; since the big bosses have cut down on staff there's hardly more than four of us still around when we finish closing. I was planning on getting out of there around six, and I did (quarter to six in fact), but rather than going back to The Boy's, we went to our manager's house for more drinks. It was really good, this particular manager and I didn't get on too well, she didn't really warm to me as much as the other staff, but we had a really good chat and it was nice to hang out completely away from work.
However, great as it was, The Boy and I didn't get back to his until midday. He started work at five, me at 6.30. Now even four hours of sleep would have been okay except we didn't get four hours of sleep. No, The Boy (poor guy) isn't really a drinker, despite being a bartender, and on this occasion I think he over-exerted himself. Admittedly, I was more wasted than I think he'd ever seen me so he seemed fine to me but neither of us had eaten or slept in over 24 hours. So he was sick. Very sick, for hours. I alternated between rubbing his back and dozing until we both got up to go to work.
Generally nothing fixes a hangover better for me than working, but not this time. I literally thought I was going to pass out. Thank God my front of house who we shall call Acid Tongue let me polish cutlery, fold napkins and run food for me entire shift without saying a word. He even thanked me for coming in when he left. Maybe he's not as bad as I thought, although he does make waitresses cry on a regular basis.
And The Boy? Well he got to work, promptly threw up again and was then fine for the rest of his shift. Bastard. I have informed him that the next time he poisons himself with Appleton's, he can sleep with his head in the toilet.