I must tell you my story:
In my freshman year of college, I discovered that partying ALL the time was quite fun.
This, to make a long story short, resulted in me realizing the night before my calculus final that even should I somehow pull an A+ on the final, I would still barely pass the class (the best grade I could hope for was a D, as I had not done well on the mid-term at all). And there was NO way I was going to get an A+; I hadn’t even opened the book since the first week of class, and although I did attend the class regularly, I learned nothing (8AM class, I was usually either still a little drunk or badly hung over, and our instructor was an Iranian guy with an accent so bad that I literally could not understand what he was saying).
I crammed all night in a low-grade panic, and went the next morning to take the test.
The first question was worth 60% of the grade. It involved a conical reservoir filled with water. The bottom was cut out of the cone and the water was flowing out, we were given the radius, the depth, etc., and were to calculate the rate at which the water was flowing out of the bottom, the rate at which the rate of water flow was changing, and a couple of other things.
Wonder of wonders, I knew the equation that I needed to start working the problem! After writing it down, however, I realized that I had absolutely no idea what to do with the equation… I pondered it for several minutes, and came up with nothing.
Fine, skip that one, answer the rest of the questions first, and come back later… good plan! I went to the next question, and the next, and the next. I couldn’t even start to answer ANY of them. 15 minutes into a 2 hour final exam, and I was finished.
I toyed briefly with the idea of just getting up and turning in the test, but didn’t want the attention of being first out (especially that early!).
I sat there and toyed with my pencil and calculator for a few minutes, and then turned to the last page of the test (which had quite a lot of empty space on it). I wrote a story there for my professor:
When I was a little boy, I wrote, *My father once bought me an ice cream cone (a conical reservoir). After a while in the summer heat, the ice cream began to melt, and I, foolish child that I was, bit the bottom out of the ice cream cone. This caused the ice cream to flow out at a steadily decreasing rate, all over the seat of my father’s pickup truck. My father, seeing the mess I had made, struck me ferociously about the head and shoulders and berated me for being a stupid child.
That early experience is still with me this day; I am psychologically scarred, and cannot answer the first question on this test. Also, I am changing my major, and I promise that I will never darken the door of your classroom again. Sorry.*
I then got up, turned in the test, and walked out.
A few days later the grades were posted; I got a completely unearned D. 
Lessons learned:
- you cannot learn a whole semester of calculus in one night (well, maybe YOU can! I can’t.)
- when totally screwed and you have no options, bullshit. You never know when it’ll work!
- study!
True story.
(I did sober up a bit after that semester and managed to graduate with decent grades, even making the Dean’s list my final semester.)