Have you ever been so drunk that....

In My Humble Opinion
21

Alright…high school trip to Spain. It’s the night before the running of the bulls and seeing as we’re 15 years old, we’re fascinated by the concept of being able to go into a supermarket and buying bottles of wine for less than a buck a bottle. I’m with three friends, we buy two bottles (pushed the corks through, wine enthusiasts that we were), drink 'em, and decide that another couple of bottles are in order. We stumble back to the hotel to the restaurant for dinner, where we continue our festivities with more wine. At this point I remember nothing, but apparently flan was served for dessert. I enjoyed it so much I turned to the table of Brits behind us and asked for their’s as well. They declined, at which point I started yelling at them to give it to me. Yep, nothing like trying to start an international incident over custard.

I later spent the night with my head out the window. I won’t describe what I saw on the awning below in the morning.

22

New Year’s Party a few months after graduating high school. A group of classmates and I take an hour’s drive to a very nice house in a very nice neighborhood. (For Seattle residents: I went to high school in Olympia and came up to Mercer Island for the party.) I went easy on the beer for the first couple of hours, but then something went >click< and in the next couple of hours, leading up to midnight, I drank half a bottle of Cuervo and a six-pack of Heineken. The last thing I remember was falling head-over-heels down the stairs from the first floor into the basement, and damned if my memory doesn’t suggest I was falling in slow motion.

I wake up the next morning back upstairs, on the floor under the pool table, with my head in a splash of vomit, presumably but unverifiably my own. And what’s more, I’m still drunk. (Don’t you hate passing out drunk, then waking up the next day still under the influence?) I don’t remember the actual New Year’s changeover, but I’m told I wrenched open a downstairs window that had previously been painted shut, climbed outside into the bushes, and ran off into the darkness. The most anyone can tell me is that I wasn’t seen for at least half an hour, at which time I came sprinting back through the front door as if I was being chased, yelling like a monkey.

I have no memory of anything between falling down the stairs and waking up under the pool table, so I don’t know if they were messing with me, or if I really did have some sort of mysterious adventure.

23

Just one week ago from this Monday I got royally plastered and experienced memory loss.

Read the sordid details here.

24

my story…back when I was an undergraduate, I had a roomate who really liked to drink. We lived across from some german exchange professors who were real alcoholics. They invited us over for a drink one Friday afternoon, and we wound up consuming:
-2 cases of beer
-2 bottles of tequila
-one gallon of vodka
-one fifth of gin
-2 bottles of canadian whiskey
-lots of coka cola, ginger ale, etc.
Oh, by the way, there were five of us. What I remember most was not a hangover, but sleeping till noon the next day-and waking up still buzzed! I wasn’t totally sober till Monday!

25

Well let’s see. There was new years of 99’. That was memorable. I was on the roof of a friends house, drinking champagne from the bottle, and other assorted stuff. I stumbled off into the night. I woke up at home around 10am. My roomate’s had been having a party until 6am or so, so I must have come home after that. When? I don’t know. What do I remember? Nothing. What did I do? hell if I know.

Then there was the premiere of Star Wars Episode 1. It was Friday, we had tickets and everything. I decided to bring along a bottle of makers mark. We met in a bar beforehand. Neither the makers mark nor myself made it to the premiere. I was upstairs in the bar, had 6 or 7 pints of Eye of the Hawk ale (about 8% alcohol), several shots of tequilla, and finished off the bottle of Makers. I clearly remember walking down the stairs, and after that…nothing, until I woke up in my own vomit in my bed. I had evidently, accosted a taxi driver, a bus driver, ran out into traffic, tried to jump out of a cab, and other assorted mischief. I was taken home by my friend/manager from work, and put to bed around 8pm. Ouch.

Then there are the times when I wake up in strange people’s houses, doesn’t happen anymore, but there were a few years where it was quite common

26

I went to a wine bar with some Czech and American fellow students during my junior year in Prague. Gooooooooooood red wine, little itty bitty glasses, big pitcher. I didn’t really keep track of how much I was drinking, because I never emptied the glass. Every time I took a sip one of the gentlemen at the table refilled the glass, so it was never, ever empty.

My friend Libor had a French girlfriend, so I remember conversing fluently in English, Czech, and French for a while (hint: I’m fluent in English, and speak only a little of the other two languages). At some point I got up from the table and went to the bathroom.

I puked red wine everywhere in the wastebasket, while sitting on the john and taking care of …other business. Then I passed out or what we could call “lost time”, on the toilet, pants down.

Libor (a guy) came looking for me eventually - apparently I’d been gone for over an hour. Somehow I ended up outside the bar, sitting on an 800-year-old stoop leaning against an 800-year-old doorway of an 800-year-old bar. My pants were fastened (ostensibly by Libor), my coat was on, and he’d gone back inside to pay the bill and retrieve my backpack.

He CARRIED me across the city and home. I was that stinking drunk.

My freshman year of school I got drunk at a club and my friends left me with this guy who had come out with us. He grabbed a taxi at some point, but he brought me to his place instead of mine. I was passed out completely, and woke up in the middle of him having sex with me on the floor of his dorm room. I threw up on his floor. I explored pressing rape charges (it was definitely NOT consensual) but the truth was that I was so intoxicated that I didn’t remember enough to really tell the story. The cops treated me like a drunk little slut who couldn’t keep her story straight. I had been a virgin.

27

And she has a new sig! May I?

28

It would be a tribute to flan around the world!

29

Oh Magdalene. I am so so so so so sorry that happened to you. Ugh. You seem like an immensely strong and truly decent person. I hope that horrific experience added to that strength instead of taking away from it. What a fucking nightmare. :frowning:

30

I don’t even want to get into all the shenanigans I’ve gotten up to when drunk - many of which I don’t remember and some of which I’m very thankful I don’t remember.

One thing I have never understood though, is that I have never been so drunk I forgot to take my contact lenses out. I’ve fallen asleep in my coat, boots, etc but the contact lenses somehow always come out before I hit the pillow.

31

There was this one incident that I got drunk with LittleStar and her cousin…LittleStar didn’t remember anything, really, I remembered bits and pieces (Although most of it is a complete blank), and her cousin remembered everything. You know, despite getting busted by her dad and waking up in a parking lot with no shoes and strawberry stains on my shirt, that one incident was a really fun night, from what I can remember…

32

I almost asked Slythe to delete the story after I posted - It seemed like sharing too much in a really, really, really public place. :o After reading everyone else’s posts I decided it was good to show the darker side of being so drunk you can’t remember, and I knew the good people here wouldn’t let me down. Unfortunately, I have a feeling I’m not alone on this board.

For the record, I think the guy was so drunk that he doesn’t quite remember. Instead of pursuing legal action, I confonted the guy with what he did wrong and he ended up receiving counseling for the rest of his college career and apologizing to me, sincerely, right before graduation. If I hadn’t done that, he might be bragging about it as some humorous exploit to this day.

I beat myself up a lot and endured a lot of guilt from my parents - “How did you let yourself get so out of control?”, etc. but the thing with alchohol is that people think they are fine right up until they are not fine.

The fact that I can’t really remember has been more of a blessing than a curse in the long run. Thanks again. Sorry to be such a damper - I don’t intend to turn this into a date rape thread.

33

Sorry, don’t mean to ignore the OP but just wanted to say:

Magdalene, I breathe a sigh of relief knowing that you had the courage to confront the guy who did that to you. Then another sigh of relief knowing that it was partially resolved by his counseling and apology. Thank you for sharing your story. Unfortunately none of my “I got so drunk” stories end well either so I don’t think I’ll post to this thread anymore.

(BTW, Homer’s drunk story is damn funny.)

34

Well, let’s also hope this doesn’t turn into the “drunk driving” thread. Every time I read the words “I don’t know how I got home…” my heart is in my mouth.

Tim/Homer is one of my favorite posters. He entertains the bejeezus out of me, even when he’s being an ass.

How did THIS start? Couldn’t y’all just measure? Who won? :smiley:

35

Terribly sorry to hear what happened, magdalene. Sounds like you’ve dealt with it and moved on, so I won’t dwell on it either.

I do, though, have another embarrassing drunken story. Doesn’t quite fit the parameters of the OP, because I did remember it (sort of) later, but it semi-qualifies.

Now, there’s a long story I could tell about getting drunk with one’s family, plus describing the setting (the Giggling Marlin in Cabo San Lucas), but here are the basic details. A big chunk of my family went to Mexico for Christmas a few years back; my stepsister had just turned 21 and hadn’t gotten to celebrate properly as her birthday was right in the middle of finals week at her college (WSU, not known for its teetotalers). We went to the Giggling Marlin, one of Cabo’s notorious party bars, where they literally grab your head and pour alcohol down your throat every few minutes if you don’t say “no” fast enough.

So anyway, we got there around 8-ish, and within an hour we were socko blotto staggering drunk. There are lots more stories about how we managed to drag ourselves home, and then got up at 5am to go deep-sea fishing, but for now I’ll confine myself to what happened in the bar. They started playing loud dance music, and of course, in that drunken way, we all jumped up and started shaking our groove thangs. We fell into a dance circle (y’know, that classic ring of bouncy white people that forms when they’re a group without specific partners), occasionally putting our arms around each other’s shoulders in unbalanced solidarity.

As I continued to get into the rhythm, I guess I devolved into some sort of protohuman bag of instinct, like William Hurt in Altered States, and soon thereafter noticed an attractive blonde dancing next to me. Hey, I thought, and let my hand drift down her back, completely forgetting that my fiancee was also there with us. Mmm, I thought, this is nice, as my hand rested on the woman’s ass. And then, oh shit–

It was my mom.

Luckily, she was also way too drunk to really register what had happened, even as I jerked my hand away like I had grabbed hold of a rattlesnake. Still, my fiancee and I left shortly thereafter…

36

I’ve never been so drunk I didn’t remember it later. Wished I didn’t remember, yes…

I’d say the stupidest thing I ever did was hop into bed with a truly scary drug addict I’d just met that night. At the time I was sure we were soul mates because we both thought Princess Diana (who had just died) was overrated. Luckily, a gay male friend of mine had his eye on the same stranger and decided to remove all his clothes and launch himself into bed WITH us. By the time we kicked him out, we were all about ready to pass out, so he undoubtedly saved me from doing something I would have greatly regretted.

I’m not sure I was grateful at the time, but I thanked him later.

37

Now we must shun you, Cervaise.

Okay, I suppose it’s time to bring out the big guns.

There was this girl in HS that I had an eternal boner for. She was throwing a party one weekend when her parents were out of town, so I came over early to mix up some drinks, and get the house tidied up and ready to go. As we were walking upstairs, she caught me staring at her ass. Hey, man, she was wearing these black spandex pants, and they were just oooh. But I digress.

So people started getting there, and we all started having a few drinks, and having fun. Now this girl’s house has always got crap laying around, baby clothes, toys, stuff like that. These girls, Amber and Stephanie, show up, and start picking stuff up and having some fun with it. “Hey, Amber! I found your snowsuit!” “OH MY GOD! I thought I’d lost it!” ::tries to put on a baby size 2 snowsuit:: Yeah, well it was funny at the time. Amber finds a green bubble want somewhere, and starts carrying it around, along with a little rhinestone tiara. Damn. I should start a cast list.

Jeana - throwing party
Tim - me
Amber - tiara, wand
Steph - Amber’s friend
Bailey - all the chicks wanted Bailey
Cole - Bailey’s best friend
Missy - Bailey’s on again off again GF
Jennifer - annoying ass friend of Missy’s
2 guys Jennifer brought
Jerod - local rich kid
About 40 other people who show up later

Anyway, Bailey, Cole, and Jerod all show up and start drinking. By this time, we’re running out of pre mixed drinks, and Bailey has a drink he wants to try, so we go looking for a blender. In a 7 person house, there is no blender! In our alcohol addled minds, we think a good substitute would be a food processor (one o’ them chopper things) and a hammer/bag combo for the ice. Now obviously, this doesn’t work, so we just leave the mess laying on the table and start taking straight vodka shots. Cole’s never drank before, so we give him the bottle. He misunderstands, and starts chuggin the (warm) vodka. We’re all gathered around him chanting “Cole! Cole! Cole!” and pumping our fists as he chugs, and he starts yelling “Me! Me! Me!” and pumping his fist. Justin straps a baby diaper onto his back like a cape and booty dancing, and Amber is smacking his ass with a wand and fluttering the cape with her other hand.

I proceed to drink copious amounts of alcohol (vodka, mostly) and the party slowly drifts upstairs. I felt a sudden urge to vomit, so I wandered over into the unfinished portion of their house to vomit out a window. Sadly, I don’t make it. As I stumble into her bedroom, I turn and blow huge chunks of puke all over her couch, floor, bed, basically the whole room. I had eaten frito pies that day, so, well… I won’t go into it. Needless to say, it was horrible, and half-digested chili along with vodka is not a good smell. The fridge with the alcohol in it is also in this bedroom.

Somewhat ashamed, I didn’t tell anyone, and since the room was dark and the lightbulb in it blown, no one knew. Everyone DID know, however, that her bedroom suddenly smelled quite HORRIBLE.

I wandered in a few more times and vomited on the couch again and again and again. My curiosity piqued, I determined that I HAD to see what this avalanche of vomit and chili looked like. I stumbled into another room, took a lightbulb, stumbled back into the stinky room (holding my breath, or course), chundered yet again, reached up with my vomit soaked hand, slowly threaded the lightbulb, and TZAAAK! As I lay twitching on the floor, the lights in the entire house slowly dimmed into nothing, and all sound ceased. Voice, music, radio, tele, everything. I lay on the floor for a few moments, to collect my thoughts (read, find the will to move), and stumbled back downstairs. The entire house was dark. I had broken her house. Broken, I say. The party somehow continued on with no power, no lights, and no music. In fact, I was somewhat of a hero, because as soon as the lights went out, everyone in the house crowded into the living room and started breakin’ it down in the dark.

The house stayed broken for most of the night, until her step-dad came home, uncrossed all the exposed wires (I ended up breaking 3 seperate power outlets in my drunkenness), and flipped the switch.

My terror was discovered, as the lights blinked on. Everyone crowded in to look at the horrid thing I had birthed. Anarchy, I say. Luckily, by this time, I was passing in and out of conciousness in my own vomit on the top bunk of her younger brother’s bunkbed. I removed my shirt for some reason, and they had given me a towel to vomit into (by now it was all just vodka, water, and gut juice) because I refused to move.

Someone farted the worst smelling, most vile thing to ever grace my or any other at the party’s nose. This, to be honest, is what finally killed the party, the smell of the fart. No one knew who did it, and no one would fess up to it. We eventually ended up blaming it on Jerod, who was sleeping on the floor.

Finally, Jeana, Amber, Steph, Jerod, me, Cole, Bailey, and a few stragglers fell to sleep on the floor and beds of her brother’s room. When I awoke in the morning, Bailey was long gone, Cole was apparently sleeping with Amber, Jerod was also gone, and Steph and Jeana were sleeping together, which aroused me to no end.

We got up and stumbled down to the gas station, still mostly drunk, and ate chips and tried to rehydrate ourselves, before we eventually all settled and went home.

When I got home, as I was getting in the shower, I noticed a perfect, quarter sized brown ring on my underwear, the remenants of the most perfect, most vile, most stomach turning fart ever to be farted. No one ever knew it was me, and not Jerod. I still giggle about that sometimes.

This party was voted the day after to be the best party ever held at [name of high school deleted].

And that’s not including the stuff I edited out, and the stuff I left out because no one would ever believe it.

Do I win?

–Tim

38

Ah, blackouts, my old best friends. Not “passout”, remember, but “blackout.” For the uninitiated, if you pass out, you fall asleep. If you black out, your brain goes to sleep and your body goes off on it’s own to find a better party. Can be horrifying if you’re female, as it is the ultimate loss of control, in most every sense of the word.

I barely remember most of the stories my soon-to-be-ex-friends would recount the next day (or week), it has been a very long time. Suffice to say, it was the standard morning question- where am I, who am I, and who are you?

Being a loud, unladylike drunk generates lots of good press clippings. I have puked in and on new cars, on new friends and in public places. I have hit on WAY TOO MANY married bosses. I have hit people with pool cues, punched out my friends, and invited people who looked like Marilyn Manson into my best friend’s home on several occasions. I have said humorous and not-so-humorous things about people WHILE THEY WERE IN THE ROOM. I had had sex in odd places, with odd people, including once in an alley while lying in a puddle of urine (I think).

Ten years later I can laugh about things that would make other people cry, but it’s been a long road. BTW, blackouts are a sign of alcohol poisioning (so is a hangover)- which can kill you. Try not to overindulge if you’re not used to it, leave it to us professionals…

39

Passed out underneath the christmas tree at my pal’s new year bash.

Cute pics of my friends sitting me in the loveseat and decorating me with the ornaments.

Senior night at Disneyland. I quaffed a load of JD in the parking lot and heaved it in Alice in Wonderland. Finally fell asleep on a bench and from what I hear, friends picked me up after a security guyy started asking questions and deposited me in the bushes over in the bushes by the castle. Woke up smelling like swan shit and found my sweatshirt caked in it. Threw it in the moat.

That was the year that Jacob (my best friend) somehow was able to flip his girlfriends panties onto one of the sombrero’s boys in its a small world. That one made the yearbook.

40

I only managed to collect one of these tales, back when I was just a very young Sailor…

Night before Thanksgiving, Orlando, FL. Several of us (about evenly mixed guys/girls), all essentially novice drinkers, decide to get a hotel room and party it up. We bring along some reaallly rotgut vodka for screwdrivers, and several other odds-n-ends, hoping to be able to think up some other decent mixtures.

I only remember about the first 45 minutes of the “party.”

One brief flash thereafter: somebody had brought along this board game where all your responses have to be lines from popular songs, sung, not spoken. I can only recall howling the chorus to “Moon River” in the way only the truly inebriated can. And being asked to stop, firmly.

Then, later, during the several hours I spent hovering over the toilet with the support of very big-hearted friends: a brief glimpse of the contents of the bowl, which were primarily red. Mind you, I hadn’t eaten/drunk anything red. What was in there was stuff usually meant to remain inside the body.

And then, later still, when I had to pee, I apparently asked my friends to stand me up and leave the room. Even totally crocked, I still can’t go with someone watching.
Shamefully, BGH