meish dot org: life, unfolding

Drinking games hadn’t featured heavily in my life until I arrived in Canada and was introduced to the Century Club, the Buffalo Club and more. We were young; that’s what we did. Drinking was about getting drunk.

When I left, I thought that was pretty much over with. The UK doesn’t have the same kind of drinking culture as Canada, and neither does Europe. My liver breathed a sigh of relief. But years later, at a party in Spain, a Canadian man who vaguely knew me - and knew at least that I’d studied in BC - saw me drinking with my right hand, came over, and said, quite simply “Bufalo.”

Busted. I downed the beer.

Later, in Sopa de Ganso bar near Plaza Alfalfa in Sevilla, I learnt to play a game with two dice, which I think could have been called Madche (or Mexican) and could have originated from Poland, Germany, Denmark or Spain, since those were the nationalities of my drinking companions, and the details all got a little fuzzy towards the end of the night.

Basically, the game consisted of throwing a pair of dice, covered, and lying about what was on them to the next person, who had to beat your score.

Values were agglutinative with the high value first, then doubles - 31 was the lowest, followed in order of ascending importance by 32, 41, 42, 43, 51, 52, 53, 54, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 11, 22, 33, 44, 55, 66 and then 21, the highest possible.

So, I’d throw the dice and get a 42, sneak a peek at it, and then announce to the next person on the table that I had double 2. If they believed me, they took the dice without looking, and had to beat that score - or at least lie and say they had. If they thought I was lying, they’d reveal the dice - if I was lying, I’d have to drink. If they were wrong, they did.

It was complicated and involved lying with a straight face, which I’ve never been good at, and outrageous bluffing, which I have.

In Bolivia, well as playing endless games of the ubiquitous Alalay/Cacho dice game, I learnt new uses for the dice. One, a game called arquitecto involved stacking six dice in order on a wobbly table. I was so bad at that. Altitude and alcohol conspired in my bloodstream to rob me of co-ordination and sense.

Much simpler to learn and execute was the brilliant single-dice game, commonly known as As, tomas meaning “one, you drink”. The rules were relatively simple, and I’d heartily recommend anyone to learn them and play at the next available juncture - if, that is, you’re looking to get completely smashed, since that was the net result. Every score on the dice had an instruction as well as a value, as detailed below:

as = tomas
tonto = pasa
tren = izquierda
cuadra = derecha
quina = pasa
sena = nomina

(one = you drink, two = pass, three = left, four = right, five = pass, six = nominate)

The game, usually played at the beginning of an evening, was always played with cheap Taquiña or Paceña beer, and involved each player in turn throwing the dice, then obeying the result. If I threw a three, the person on my left had to drink. If I threw a five, I got to pass to the next person without drinking. A six meant I had to single someone out to secar, to down their beer. The game usually only lasted eight or nine rounds before everyone was completely leathered. But genius in its simplicity.

These days, I drink socially with friends, and not even that much any more, because I just can’t recover as quickly as I used to. I don’t really drink beer much, either, because it’s too carbonated, and because it hits me too hard. Wine I can control. I know where I’m at with vodka. I can feel gin sneaking up on me. But beer inevitably involves a sudden shift from being completely fine to being absolutely wasted. Where did that come from? It’s too unpredictable. I don’t like experiences which I can’t control any more.

Drinking these days isn’t about the alcohol - it’s about the social interaction. I don’t look to get pissed anymore, though sometimes it seems like a great idea. I am sometimes just as happy with lemonade, or even water. It’s about the people, the situation. Sometimes it would be kind of refreshing not to have a civilised evening - to be destructive, to just go and get blotto, like back in student days. Perhaps next time I go out drinking, I’ll take a dice.