DRILLINGER DOES is a weekly column that chronicles the exploits of urban daredevil Meagan Drillinger throughout the five boroughs. Every Monday is another adventure — from whiskey tours and no-pants subway rides to sex club date nights.
Chances are if you live in New York, at some point you’ve had a hangover. And after you experienced that sweet kiss of death, you probably subsequently came up with your own tried-and-true hangover method to help get you through the next one. I’m sure I could even guess some of them: early-morning water and Advil followed by three more hours of sleep; a greasy, fatty, cheesy burger and side of fries; perhaps another beer? But I doubt any of you is calling an emergency nurse to come to your apartment and hook you up to an IV and pump you full of fluids and antioxidants. But…maybe you should. Because I did, and it’s awesome.
The Hangover Club began in 2013 as an on-demand, in-home, IV hangover cure service. The team includes on-call nurses who make house calls to patients in dire need of fluid replenishment, stat. IV certified registered nurses come to your home, office, or hotel in as little as 45 minutes — perfect if you’ve ever gone into the office after a happy hour-turned-all-nighter and found yourself wanting to be sick in your neighbor’s cubicle. Have yourself a little liquid hydration lunch and be back for that afternoon conference call as if all you did the night before was binge-watch something on Netflix until you passed out at 10 p.m. The nurses bring with them all of the equipment, hydration, and vitamins that will have you back on your feet in 30 minutes. There are three packages from which to choose: The Classic Hangover, which provides hydration and electrolytes, The Super Hangover, which has hydration and an extra energy boost, and the Mega Hangover, a full package with energy and immune boosters, as well as medications to deal with nausea and headaches. The classic package starts at $175 and additional boosters can be added for extra.
To prepare myself for my morning Hangover Club experience, I made sure to give the nurse something to work with. The night before I visited The Bonnie, a craft-y, cocktail-y, bartenders-in-flannel-y experience off the Ditmars stop in Astoria. I sat at the bar and explained my mission to the bartender, who happily poured and re-poured my glass (and charged and recharged my credit card) with one “Dirty Pickle Martini” after another, each one getting more and more lethal in its vodka containment. Far more drunk than one should be before midnight on a weekday, I somehow managed to make it home to my apartment, refusing that salvaging pre-bed glass of water. If we’re going to do this, let’s do this. Clothes strewn on the floor I passed out in my bed and waited for the painful morning.
Mission accomplished. Good lord.
Rudely awoken by the sun at the ungodly hour of 8:20, I smacked my lips at that dry, boozy taste in my mouth and curled into a ball at the foggy and dull pain that was throbbing inside my head. I stumbled into the living room and waited for the jarring door buzzer to sound, which it did promptly at 9 am. The nurse, Christine, came into my apartment with her traveling satchel of medical supplies. “They told me to have fun last night,” I mumbled. “I certainly hope you did!” she smiled.
Christine laid out her tools on my coffee table, complete with syringes, bag of fluid, IV drip, latex gloves, etc. She took my vitals, found a vein and within minutes I was laying back on my couch watching revitalizing liquids drip slowly into my body.
At first I was skeptical, as no way in hell was this headache going away anytime soon. But halfway through the bag the fog over my head started to shift and move. The iron, metallic taste in my mouth was replaced with something almost mineral-y and I began to feel a little less dried out. My conversation with Christine started to flow more easily as I came out of my painful coma and became something of a full functioning human.
In about 45 minutes the bag was entirely drained and Christine gave me a final boost of a powerful antioxidant, and a promise that within the next few hours I’d be tearing it up at the gym. Seeing as when I typically have a hangover I forget the English language and that you had better be prepared to fight for your life if you try to pry that cheeseburger out of my hand, I was less than certain.
The joke, however, was on me.
Not only was I running with my usual, moderate enthusiasm, but the laundry managed to get done, as did the grocery shopping and the writing of this little tale. If I worked in an office, my neighbor’s cubicle would have been entirely safe. But, yes, while it did work wonders, I don’t see The Hangover Club becoming a regular part of my remedy routine anytime soon. Not because it wasn’t incredibly effective…but because Gatorade and a cheeseburger only costs $7.50.
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