The Complex Guide to Hangover Cures

To say that bars are a large part of the modern social fabric is an understatement. A staggering percentage of business (and pleasure) is transacted between rounds of beers, shots of whiskey, or sips of Cosmos (Am I right, ladies?). But what happens the next morning, when you get up for work, brunch (Am I right, ladies?), or a Call of Duty tournament and you aren't feeling your best (Am I right, ladies?)?

It seems everyone is looking for relief from early morning purgatory; swapping hangover cures is as much a hobby these days as swapping mixtapes or STDs (Am I right, la—). But then, man has engaged in alcoholic revelry since the dawn of time. A great article on hangover cure history, courtesy of Time, tells us, “When the ancient Assyrians felt the painful aftereffects of excess merriment, they consumed a mixture of ground birds' beaks and myrrh.”

While I couldn't get my hands on either of these, Complex enlisted me to take on hangover cures that have been championed through the ages and put them to the test. That's right folks; I have sacrificed sleep (woke up at 7 a.m.), breakfast (no food until all cures had been tested), and my sanity (you'll see) to test out these purported hangover remedies, so you don't have to.

Thank me later. Or at least give me your pity.

RELATED: First We Feast - Hangover Foods From Around the World

By Brenden Gallagher (@muddycreekU)

All photos by Ian Stroud

I think we all knew many a bro and bro-ette in college who swore by sipping last night's poison on their way to skipping Intro to Statistics, and all of us know a few working stiffs who keep a flask in their desk to mix with their morning coffee. Hair of the Dog may just be the most venerable and trusted of morning after treatments, as it is the preferred hangover cure of such alcoholic cultural luminaries as Ernest Hemingway, Dean Martin, and Snooki. The question remains: does it work?

Hangover Cure?: I guess. Calling this a hangover cure isn't really hitting the heart of the issue though. Getting a buzz feels good no matter what, and will cure what ails you, at least for a little. The problem is the initial early morning positive effects don't last. In the long run, you'll only feel worse. A good friend humbly suggested I try the “Dog of the Dog,” meaning that I drink, pound for pound, exactly what I had the night before. This, too, is not advisable.

This is the first of three cures sent my way by enterprising professional hangover curers. Mercy is sort of the reverse Red Bull; while it has that sweet tart taste and smooth, subtle carbonation, the end result is supposed to ease a hangover and mellow you out. Don't just take my word for it, scan their website's FAQ for more awful puns on the word “mercy” (“You might try saying, 'Have MERCY!' to your bartender”… paging Statler and Waldorf) and more faux-science than you can shake a stick at.

Hangover Cure?: While I was successful at wearing the complimentary angel wings and halo that accompanied the product, I was unsuccessful at following directions. Mercy is supposed to be imbibed, it turns out, right after a night of drinking; before you hit the hay, not the next morning; yea verily, the angel of mercy will only wait so long. So, we're going to have to call a mulligan on this one.

The second cure sent over to us, for some reason, shares a name with the famous inflatable fish. There isn't much else to say about these non-descript little tablets except that I was given an entire carton of them. Lucky me.

Hangover Cure?: Yes, Blowfish works, a fact that is supported by their website's FAQ. In response to the question, “Does Blowfish really work?”, the Blowfish-ermen simply and elegantly write, “Yes.” Being surprised that Blowfish works is like being surprised that your high school's girls' volleyball coach got fired; it's fairly obvious once you know the facts. You see, the active ingredients are aspirin and caffeine. So, yeah, it works—but so does, you know, aspirin and coffee. Also, be advised the Blowfish has a lemon-y flavor, so don't try to get cute and put it in your coffee. Like I did. It was a mistake.

Bytox, the last of the three cures gifted to us, is basically a nicotine patch, but for hangovers. I was almost deterred by the website's FAQ, which implies that it's very easy to pull off your skin if you remove the patch too quickly. Okay, this is getting ridiculous, all these FAQ pages. These guys are giving their clientele entirely too much credit. How often is anyone seeking out hangover cures doing this kind of research and weighing the comparative scientific merits? Yeah, I've always known drunkards to be quite discriminating in their research methods; the only things in which a drunk is thorough about are arguments over past-their-prime bands and sports teams. The frequently asked questions of drunkards usually are limited to, “Can I get your number?”, “What do you mean I'm cut off?”, and “What the hell are you looking at?” But let's keep it moving.

Hangover Cure?: Not sure. I think I felt better faster than normal; Vitamin B, which is Bytox's major ingredient (it provides you with 4,160% of your daily Vitamin B12), is known to be effective. However, the effects weren't that pronounced, and the placebo effect might have come into play. Regardless, this was not an instant miracle cure.

While all of these things are soothing on their own, I wasn't sure what would happened when combined in my digestive system. The thick mushy consistency of the tart yogurt and the chalky milkshake that is pepto, all cut together with a hint of warm ginger—well, down the hatch!

Hangover Cure?: Certainly the pepto settled my stomache, and tea and yogurt are as soothing as any Balm in Gilead, but these three things in tandem…left me wanting. Not only did it not cure my hangover, but left my guts awash in a sea of pinkish-white goo.

I know what you're thinking: this cure looks pretty innocuous next to some of the more exotic fare on the list. But don't be fooled! What appears to be harmless brine behind glass stops being so cute and cuddly when poured into your digestive system. This was one of the two cures that made me blow chunks, but more on that in a moment.

Hangover Cure?: My exact words were: “Oh, God. Why is this the worst? It's so simple. Oh, God. Oh, God. Why is this one is the worst?!”

I think that's a pretty glowing recommendation.

I'll turn back to the hangover scholars over at Time for some context on this one.

The Prairie Oyster—tomato juice, vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, pepper, and a raw egg—is an American take on a British favorite popularized in P.G. Wodehouse's series of Jeeves stories (yeah, the butler), which features such exciting plot points as Jeeves resigning from a job because of the eccentric evening gowns his boss chooses to wear. What the Jeeves stories lack in compelling drama, they make up for in foolish hangover cures, as Jeeves suggests that his boss try a “bracer of Worcestershire sauce, raw egg, and pepper.”

Hangover Cure?: No. Of course not. This was the other cure to make me gag and vomit immediately. Looks like Jeeves is about as good at creating hangover cures as he is search engines. Burn!

While it seems that this cure—whiskey, coffee, Tabasco sauce, raw egg, pepper, and orange juice—would be equally as disgusting as the meadow clam above, it actually doesn't taste nearly as awful. This bland, slightly sweet drink tastes like a weak smoothie. This was quite unsettling; I would have almost preferred it tasted awful, rather than feature a bunch of powerful flavors that somehow cancel each other out, producing a bland, liquefied mush.

Hangover Cure?: Again, no. Why would this work? Who invented this? Why am I doing this? Someone make it stop.

When I heard about this cure, I was admittedly a bit giddy. While the other cures on the list read like a laundry list of unorthodox torture techniques, a schwitz, I thought, would be mighty fine.

Hangover Cure?: Boy, was I wrong. With nothing else to do but meditate on how dehydrated I was between throbs of my pounding headache, this was one sauna session that certainly did not yield a happy ending.

Note: The photo above is an approximation of the author's preferred sauna experience.

This cure is a favorite among the cabal of new age-y, green folk who seek complicated remedies to simple problems. And if the sexy, smelly, Birkenstock-y masses out there swear by this remedy, then far be it from me to doubt. Many thanks to Go Wasabi on 30th Ave. in Astoria, Queens, for their generous allowance of half a pound of wasabi in exchange for an Abe Lincoln. You guys are the real heroes.

Hangover Cure?: No. No. Absolutely not. All went well at first, as I dumped a quarter pound of wasabi into my bathtub, eased in ever so gently, and was greeted by the kind of warm tingly sensation that led me to believe that this might be the way to go. This was…a false hope. Soon the warm tingling turned into a burning in certain exposed areas of my body. Needless to say, the other quarter pound of wasabi went unused…if you guys are planning a sushi potluck or whatever, let me know.

There are a few lessons to be learned here, I think. As with so many things in life, if it's too good to be true, it probably is. The only cures that truly provide relief are the ones we already know work, the safe and obvious answers. After I let these so-called remedies take their effect, I shambled out into the daylight, my stomach a carousel of puking kids and scary horses, my eyes still veined in red, my head still throbbing. It took everything I had to make it to the bagel spot underneath the train and grab a ham, egg, and cheese, topped off with a large coffee. The hangover was gone, though I felt awful for the rest of the day due to all the crap I'd ingested trying to cure it.

Until next time, stay away from cheap booze, sleepless nights, and suspect company, as there is precious little in this world that will prevent you from paying for your sins in the morning.

Note: As indicated in the body of the article, all historical references come from a Time Magazine article, “A Brief History of Hangovers,” by Claire Suddath. Thanks for doing the research so we didn't have to. Sorta. That article can be found here.