The dumbest thing I did was the Tuesday night before it hit me on Wednesday: I went to a dinner party at an ex-Warner Bros. exec's house and had two martinis while on four Tylenol allergy pills with Tylenol aspirin to boot. Man, I didn't kow whether to puke, go to the hospital, or call a priest. I was supposed to be at the track the next day at 7AM. No telling how much of a danger I could have been to the other drivers and myself.
Of course, now I'm the king of phlegm and incessant disgusting old man coughing of the Lucky Strike filterless sort.
