Many of us remember having had a few too many and then doing something crazy. But sometimes it was eight too many, and you don’t remember anything at all, except what your friends told you the next day. What’s the most interesting, impressive, or crazy thing you’ve done while blacked out?
Mine:
[ul]
[li]Not all that long ago, and many, many $2 long island iced teas away, some friends and I returned from 6th street in Austin back to their co-op house. I proceeded to sneak off to the back deck of the house, where I rearranged all of the patio furniture so I that in my drunken slumber I could have the entire wooden expanse to myself.Walking back from the student parking lot (you can be sure I wasn’t driving on that night) to my room, I came across a prominent campus landmark that I had been eyeing for some time. Realizing a “golden” opportunity when I saw one, I unzipped and let fly all over the statue. Did I mention this landmark was right on the corner of the most well-trafficked intersection on campus? Halfway through, a police cruiser started to approach. It slowed down and bleeped its sirens at me. I quickly zipped up and went on my way, but everyone there swears that if I had been a half second slower I would have been arrested.[/li][/ul]
I was down in Mexico one summer for the Todos Santos Hobie Cat regatta. The event was sponsored by Sauza Tequila, and they were quite liberal in the dispensing of maragritas at the free bar that evening. I had, oh…7 or 8. I am told that I spent the rest of the evening in conversation with the President of Sauza, who was there with his own bottles of private stock. Friends and strangers said we were having a ball, talking and laughing and drinking like best-buds.
My friend and I were having a few beers with the night desk guy at the hotel where we were staying, in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. When I woke up, I was in another hotel room.
I went to a friend’s house for his birthday. It was my first (and last) experience with binge drinking. While I was blacked out, I was apparently dancing sans clothes :eek: and my friend’s stepdad came out to ask nicely if we could keep the noise down. This is a burly guy who gets in brawls virtually every day, and in my drunken state, I told him to shut up :eek: He grabs me and is about to headbutt/piledriver/bodyslam me, when I look him straight in the eye, open my mouth, and projectile-vomit all over him. I had been drinking a lot of margaritas, so the vomit was BRIGHT red, everybody initially mistook it for blood and the guy dropped me like a ton of bricks while he ran off cussing and changing his clothes. My friends somehow convinced him not to kill me, though that didn’t stop him from dragging me out to the lawn and hosing me down (to get all the vomit off me). My friends dried me off and set me down on a matress, where I woke up the next morning.
After a recent massive night out with friends, one of our gang joined me back to my place to stay the night. I should say she is female and I’m male, but we have been just friends since we were kids so it wasn’t like funny business was on the cards, though she would sleep in my bed on occasions like this. We were both very trashed on arrival back at my place.
The next morning, I noticed that the bath had been cleaned. I then recovered the vaguest recollection that I had raced into the house and (without my friend knowing) got out a sponge and bathroom cleaner spray and cleaned the bath, presumably because it hadn’t been done in a little while and was a tad, er, crusty (I’m a bachelor, you know) and I would’ve been embarrassed if she’d seen it in that state.
I had a friend who got trashed in Iowa City and wound up in Riverside, Iowa (future birthplace of Captain Kirk) the next day, but that’s child’s play compared to Saskatoon and Vancouver.
After a night of hanging out and drinking (I probably had six beers and twice as many shots of tequila plus a margarita at the bar), I kissed one of my best friends who happened to be engaged to another best friend that was passed out about four feet away.
Three days later, they got married; I was the best man.
The only reason this even merits mention (as it’s nothing that impressive) is because I’ve only kissed three girls (including her) and am painfully awkward and shy around them. It was quite out of character for me.
I wish I could tell you how I got from one place to the other. Obviously, at some point, Pete and I decided to take the bus to Vancouver. But I don’t remember making that decision, or going to the bus terminal, or the ride through two provinces and a set of mountains, or getting off in Vancouver, or finding the hotel.
When I woke up, Pete and I were lying in the same bed (fully clothed, mind you), in an unfamiliar room in a really crappy hotel. The wallpaper was yellowed and peeling, and the only thing in the room was a copy of Time magazine. In Chinese. I can’t quite describe what it’s like to say to yourself, “Where the fuck am I, and how did I get here???” I had to leave the room, go downstairs to the lobby, where the decor was Chinese. “Omigod, am I in China?” I left the building and looked around, and the street signs were in English and Chinese. I had to find a newspaper to see where the hell I was, and it said Vancouver. We were staying at the Lotus Hotel in Gastown. I have no idea how or why.
We spent a month there, and in all that time, I never did see the bus terminal again.
After a hard night of post-breakup boozing (we had been together for six years before she shit-canned it), I woke up, naked, in my lukewarm-but-full bathtub. It appeared that I had been there a while, and was very disconcerting.
