Alcohol and I have an interesting relationship. The longer I stay away, the less I want it... but when I get back into it, and it sinks its teeth in, its usually a case of blood in the alcohol system, rather than the other way round, whenever I have the chance possible.
Do I enjoy it? Yeha. I do. Alcohol and benzos are my thing. I like to be relaxed, not amped, as I spend alot of my life amped sans drugs anyway.
Why do I drink? To get drunk. I can count on one hand the number of times I've had a 'quiet drink or two' and not ended up either tanked or trying to get tanked by night's end. Given the opportunity, I will sit down at a bar or pub, and assuming the company and ambience is right, drink until one of two things happens; I run out of money (and credit card), or they run out of what I'm drinking (and it has happened once. Myself and another guy drained them of all bottles of Sambucca, then the Amaretto). I can happily work my way through a slab over the course of a day in warm weather with good friends and good discussion.
Despite this, I must hold my piss reasonably well, as I have never, ever been refused service, asked to leave, or thrown out of a venue. A week or two before my 18th birthday, I went out to an 18th at a bar. $2 or $3 drinks, all night. I had $100 on me, anticipating this being a big night. It started at 5 with something to eat, then we proceeded to the bar. By nights end at 1am, having bought noone else a thing, I had managed to spend the entirety of that $100 on beer. No water or other softdrinks consumed. I managed to convince a taxi driver to take me home where I had money waiting for just such a situation. You do the maths. I spent the next day in bed, and felt fucked up for a week. My liver was so inflamed on my 18th, I managed a single glass of champagne.
I should qualify that by saying that there was one particular day when I'd finished work at 11am, went home, chilled out and got changed, then went to my bar of preference (I was one of a handful of true regulars who knew, and drank with, the staff outside business hours) for lunch, and proceeded to drink with the chef and his mates and anyone else. Sometime around nine ish, I apparently vommitted, which was cleaned up by the night shift barman at the direction of the chef, and rather than being ejected or refused service, I was simply switched from being served Pints to Pots (RSA anyone?)