The Sabal Palm Porcelain Theater

Hello, kids... this entry is brought to you by the letter "p." "P" stands for the word punishment.

pun�ish�ment n.

a. The act or an instance of punishing.

b. The condition of being punished.

1. A penalty imposed for wrongdoing: "The severity of the punishment must... be in keeping with the kind of obligation which has been violated" (Simone Weil).

2. Rough handling; mistreatment: These old skis have taken a lot of punishment over the years.

So... I got a little inebriated, the other night.

And when I say "a little," what I actually mean is that around 4am, I started doing choreographed routines for Sandy... and I was drunk enough that I didn�t mind the fact that I was drinking Popov Vodka... not to mention the fact that the curiosity of sleeping with a woman was in my head before I went to sleep.

So... I guess I was kinda gone.

Right-o.

So... I went to a party... I had three shots of whiskey and three glasses of wine...

Then... not really even buzzing, I came home... and I made Sandy come over... where I proceeded to drink about two thirds of a bottle of wine while watching the conclusion to My Cousin Vinny...

Then, when we decided to watch Never Been Kissed... I started on the screwdrivers, with Popov. Eeeew.

So... this morning, when I finally arose, it wasn�t pretty...

Sure... I mean... I didn�t have *that* much to drink... but... mixing so many different alcoholic beverages... not such a great idea...

But... both my body and morals remained intact...

And the thoughts of sleeping with a woman *quickly* faded...

Sorry, gals.

So... I get a phone call, this morning... it�s Chad... my scheduling buddy at Disney... and after asking me what I was wearing and the obligatory questions from him (hrmm... Title VII, much...? Although... the actions have to be *unwanted*, don�t they?)... I asked him if it would be possible to get a Cosmo shift or two while I was down there, in order to break up the monotony of puppeting...

"Sure... I think that can be arranged... now... have you gained any weight?"

"Um... I dunno... maybe a little...�

"Ok... �cause I just wanted to make sure, since you�ll be in silver spandex..."

Riiiiiiiiiight.

So... Robert is on a diet and exercise plan.

I need to lose the bit of belly and tone my pecs and arms back up... in a week.

And... since I only have a week... today needs to be the beginning of a rough training regiment...

So... I�m all psyched to break out the theratube (it�s a rubber band like thing that tones the upper body through resistance) and the trance party music to warm up to...

So... I get my music all set... and I start doing some mild heartrate and such... and then... the head starts pounding...

Yeah... kinda sucks to be doing some hardcore exercising when you�ve got a hangover... then again, at least I�m not as fucked up and hungover as I had been before... (more on that flashback in a minute...)

So... I guess I have to punish myself... punishment for not exercising everyday... punishment for eating too much crap... punishment for drinking too much...

Flashback.

It�s August 2001.

I�m in Florida... and it�s a Thursday night... which of course means Pleasure Island (PI) night with Kelly and Cierra.

Ok... for those of you non-Disney kids, PI is the nighttime entertainment complex for adults... they have 7 clubs and tons and tons of alcohol... and... on Thursday nights, everyone who works for Disney gets in for free... so... it�s a raging good time... usually...

Now, because I�m not 21, yet, I don�t attempt to drink at PI, anymore... (that�s a story for some other time...)... so... I�m pre-partying at Kelly�s...

Six bottles of Mike�s Hard Lemonade... followed by five shots of Goldschlagger... then a shot of vodka... and a shot of rum...

All on an empty stomach, of course.

I also tried to take a shot of some Raspberry or Blackberry Vodka something or other... but... it got into my mouth... I decided it tasted like ass run over... and I spit it out... with full force...

So... all of this drinking was done in about an hour.

Riiiiiiight.

I was feeling pretty ill, already, in the car ride to PI... it was about 11pm, which is standard time for us getting over there... and I had to be helped by about three different people in order to get my ID to slide through the ticket slot...

I was pretty lit. Too bad I don�t remember much. Here�s what I *do* remember, though...

We were standing in line for the midnight comedy show... and I was fading in and out of consciousness... and just as the fireworks were shooting off, I started throwing up...

I remember sitting on the floor of the bathroom under the West End Stage, watching as people, including security, walked in and out of the room in order to check on me...

Next, I remember sitting on the bench outside of the restroom... and talking to someone from Tapestry...

And then they got me to Kelly�s. I got a bucket and threw up and passed out on the couch.

I remember waking up the following morning and puking intermittently from 8am �til 11am... (I feel like I�m a Disney attraction by saying that... "Making intermittent appearances throughout the morning in the Sabal Palm Porcelain Theater is Robert Craig and his amazing stomach pyrotechnics! Remember... the first four rows are considered the Splash Zone!"

So... I finally stopped throwing up... and of course, me, being the good, dedicated Cast Member that I am... I decided that I should go to work.

Mind you, it�s the middle of August... it�s about ninety degrees outside... and the humidity is at about 85 percent...

So... *of course*... the equivalent of running the 2500 meter dash with a 20 foot, 30 pound kite on my back seemed like the best possible idea...

I wanted to die.

I was ready to die after warmups... then when I got my puppet on... I felt like falling over and dying... Why did I choose to punish myself like this?

Somehow, by a miracle of god, I made it through the first parade...

Now... when I was standing behind the barn (where we keep the puppets) after the first parade, some of the other performers walk by... and one girl stops, about 25 feet away from me, and says... "Why does it smell like someone poured, like, bottles of alcohol all over the ground?"

I�m squatting against the barn, attempting to keep the sun out of my eyes... I slowly raise my hand... and said... "Binge drinking... always a good time..."

See... you know it�s bad when you have a hangover... especially when it lasts until midnight, the next day...

So... it is now Sunday... I started this entry yesterday around three pm... and due to a course of events that were totally unexpected... I am now mildly hungover and in bewilderment over the events of last evening.

I have this thing, though... I don�t write or talk about things until they�ve been sorted out in my mind...

So... I think... I�m going to go for a run...

Maybe it�ll clear my mind...

And maybe, it�ll be the right punishment for drinking... again.

later, kids...

~robert