So in the spirit of ``Super Size Me'' -- the documentary about the debilitating effects of fast-food consumption -- I embarked upon an experiment dubbed ``Ouzo-ize Me.''

The plan was to drink ouzo all night and document my deterioration.

I'd hoped ouzo would be gentle with me, even though I had been warned that the hangover can be a killer. Unfortunately, it maintained its agonizing grasp all day: Ouzo Night took place in the wee hours Sunday, and I'd planned to write this later that day, but that was physically impossible.

What is it about this combination of pressed grapes, herbs and berries -- including aniseed, licorice, mint, wintergreen, fennel and hazelnut -- that makes it so potent?

For starters, it contains about 40 percent alcohol. In theory, you're not supposed to drink it to get drunk -- it's intended as a social drink, best enjoyed with friends at an ouzeri and accompanied by tiny snacks called mezedes.

Adding water or ice to the clear liquid dilutes it, turning it milky white. But when you drink as much ouzo as I did -- and I can't even say how much because friends kept refilling my glass -- nothing could have weakened it, especially for a woman who's only 5 feet tall.

This Greek tragedy took place at Cafe Avisinia, in a square in the bustling Monastiraki section of Athens at the foot of the Acropolis. By day, the square looks like a rundown parking lot with a quiet cafe in one corner. By night, the place is transformed, crowded with round tables that are packed with people eating and drinking. They also sing along to traditional Greek tunes performed by an accordionist and a buxom, charismatic singer playing the tambourine. Patrons get up and dance joyously, and I eventually joined them.

It was the perfect spot for my adventure -- at least, what I can recall. I took notes as I went along but, in time, I needed help from the dozen or so skilled journalists who were brave enough to accompany me.

Here's a transcription of my/their notes:

Midnight: We sit down around a long table in the restaurant's glassed-in front section. The waitress seems flustered because there are so many of us.

12:10 a.m.: Thankfully, my new friend, Vicky -- who contributed to the ``Lonely Planet Athens'' travel book and recommended this place -- speaks Greek. She orders two kinds of ouzo -- one heavy, the other sweeter and lighter -- and insists I do a taste test. She also orders several crucial appetizers for the table; everyone who's had ouzo before warns that I must eat with it.

12:15 a.m.: The ouzo and food arrive, and so do more friends. Vicky thinks I should drink the liqueur straight, but relents since it's my first time and drops a few ice cubes into two tall, thin glasses. Then she pours. I take a sip. It tastes like an icy, wet version of Good & Plenty candy, and it goes down with a shudder.

12:20: I've piled my plate with food -- eggplant salad, a dip made of yellow fava beans, and a roe salad. Vicky says ouzo goes best with something oily and fishy. Baskets full of bread chunks are passed around the table for dipping.