Special Halloween Edition: Expert's Guide to the Ten Levels of Hangover

No Sunday morning is complete without a 1:30 p.m. pre-brunch assessment of one's hangover. Will I make it to brunch? Do I have enough energy to make it to the bathroom? Will chicken wings cure me? How many bloody marys/mimosas/beers will I require in order to feel human once again?

It is also important that you be able to communicate your fragile condition to those closest to you. Specifically, your brunch counterparts, your parents (who inevitably choose late Sunday morning to call you), and your bartender/waitress/emergency-room nurse. These various loved ones and caretakers must be able to determine the amount of coddling/admonishment/alcohol to provide you with in order to make you whole (or, at least, semi-functional) once again. This handy ten-point hangover scale makes it that much easier to ask for the help you require... with a minimum of loud and energy-depleting talk.

LEVEL 1
Really not a "hangover" at all. You were drinking last night (probably just a few beers) and this morning you are thirsty and a little groggy. While you would prefer to avoid, say, bright sunlight and loud construction sites, you're really just one slice of toast and a glass of ginger ale away from feeling 100%. Even mentioning a hangover right now makes you a sixteen year-old girl. From Connecticut.

LEVEL 2
You consumed at least two mixed drinks last night, but you were in bed fairly early and you drank plenty of fluids. Your stomach is a little queasy and there is a nagging pressure at the base of your skull. Basically, only wussy girls would even mention a level two... unless you drank like a sailor, and now you're bragging about how little your hangover is. This will disappear within a half hour.

LEVEL 3
Now we're getting somewhere. Level three usually appears more serious at first; simply getting out of bed and into the shower makes the level three more manageable. Terrible taste in mouth begins here and headache is more noticeable. Desire for eggs and bloody mary is clear immediately upon regaining consciousness. Generally dissipates within the hour, or after one cocktail.

LEVEL 4
Traditionally, the four is the first level at which the sufferer begins to make comments like, "I have a hangover," or the more dramatic, "Dude, I am totally hung over." This is now acceptable. The four is still responsive to shower/mobilization therapy, but headache and terrible taste in mouth will persist for at least two hours or until the first cocktail. Also, the four introduces general nausea.

LEVEL 5
The next plateau. From five to seven, your destiny is largely in your own hands. Level fluctiation is common at this point, and depends largely upon your general professionalism. Get thee to a brunch, stat. If work is in the cards, proceed to the nearest sausage biscuit beforehand. Subjectivity takes over in the middle of the scale: tough guys call a seven a five, wussies call a five a seven. Here are some reliable indicators: does food still sound good? Five. Would you like a beer? Five. Can you see sunlight without weeping? Five. Now get out of bed and open a beer.

LEVEL 6
Headache migration! Although the pain at the base of the skull persists, it is joined by the little man who jabs a pitchfork into the back of your eyeballs. Light makes him angrier. Noise too. You no longer "want" food, although you sense you might "need" it. You cannot drink beer or mimosas, but bloody marys are still palatable, and you can get up to drink one. Bacon and nachos are the only edible foods. You will probably drink in the shower.

LEVEL 7
Again, tough guys will gut out the seven, but most of us will require bed service for the first cocktail. Sunlight is initially unbearable, as is the thought of leaving bed. You will need to sit down in the shower, and puking will seem like a serious possibility at first. If you're working, you will be a little late and you will stare at the wall for at least one hour. Your headache is everywhere, teeth included. You will not eat until lunch, which will be McDonald's. On a weekend, you will need at least one cocktail before you can eat. You will wear your sunglasses at brunch and you will undoubtedly bitch about the service/other customers. Level seven sufferers spend the day breathing through their mouth and experiencing mild to severe acid reflux.

LEVEL 8
Level eight is traditionally when people take a half day off of work. Your headache is severe and seems to be affecting your eyesight. But the nausea is worse. The level eight sufferer will struggle for half the day with the will-I-won't-I vomit question. At some point, a smell will fill your mouth with saliva, but you'll only gag and sit down with your head betwen your knees. At level eight the men are separated from the boys; drinking sounds horrible, but you know it's the only answer. This is the highest level at which you have any control over your condition: It will take at least three cocktails to relieve the pain, and you'll never really feel yourself. Also, no matter how many times you brush your teeth, it will still taste like you ate a dead cat.

LEVEL 9
You are not going to work today. Welcome to vomitland. Generally, the level nine sufferer will feel unable to leave the bed until they realize that they are about to barf. You would puke even more, but you're this sick in the first place because you drank on an empty stomach last night. You are basically a retard. Dizziness, severe headache, disorientation, high heart rate, an aversion to the very thought of food, and a deep, profound regret all characterize this level. Eventually, water will stay down. Later on, ginger ale and possible bland solids are on the menu. There will be no leaving the house, although the couch in front of the TV is an afternoon possibility. You will feel like solid shit all day, and will still be sluggish the next day. Level nine sufferers spend a good portion of their day questioning their choice of lifestyle and friends. Alcohol consumption is basically impossible.

LEVEL 10
If you make it to the bathroom to puke, congratulations; the floor of the bathroom is where you will spend most of your day. By nightfall, you should be able to keep water down. That's it for eating today... in fact, try not to think about food. Concentrate on breathing. The level ten sufferer is a deeply pitiful creature. All the aforementioned symptoms will persist all day and night. A low-grade fever is likely. There is a chance you will dedicate your life to the church at some point during this day. Probably right after your puke starts to resemble precious bodily fluids. You will only be able to indicate your hangover level with a show of fingers, inspiring pity from even the most callous of your alcoholic friends. Things like "brunch," "the telephone," and "speaking" are way out of your league. You will consider mumbling "take me to the hospital" at least once. You will have a level three hangover the following day. You will not touch alcohol for at least 48 hours.