About 30 years ago I was at the Marine Security Detachment’s house on the embassy compound at Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. It was Wednesday night happy hour and there was some serious drinking going on. I was with a bunch of CIA paramilitary hardasses, and we were downing more than our fair share of margaritas. I finally packed it in around 2300, knowing I had a tennis date at 0800. Those PM guys kept at it for a few more hours. Instead of playing tennis at 0800, they had to be at the flight line of a nearby Saudi military airfield at 0500. They were going on an early morning jump with their trainees. I don’t think I’ve had six shots of tequila in the last 30 years, and that includes two years in Mexico City and Guadalajara, the home of tequila.
When the hard asses are drinking margaritas, you know your country is screwed.
Being drunk really interferes with one’s ability to handle a jump emergency, I have done them hungover and that was not optimum, but nothing like being in the middle of a drunk, it didn’t help that it was a night jump.