My best story:
I was about 19 years old in 1988 and drinking heavily at the bar with friends. Back then, I often drank enough to lose anywhere between minutes and hours. This one particular evening was no different.
I last recall being at the bar chatting with some friends on the upper level. My very next recollection was waking up in a strange bed. I was above the covers, fully clothed, and oddly, flanked on each side by a young lady. I didn’t recognize either of them. They, too, were fully clothed and above the covers. (Read, nothing happened)
I got up slowly and quietly and wandered into the kitchen. I got some water from the refrigerator and went to the front room to look out the window. It didn’t look like any street I’d seen in the small city of 60,000 in which I’d grown up and in which I’d finished drinking the night before.
When waking up after that much drinking, I always needed milk. Unfortunately, there was none in the fridge. So, I decided to go for a little walk to try to find a store. After walking a few blocks and deciding that I was most definitely not in the same municipality as the night before. I found a store before too long and, after getting some milk from the cooler, approached the counter and asked where I was. The clerk told me an intersection, to which I replied, “no, where am I?” He told me the name of the town, which happened to be about 45 minutes south of the place I’d been that prior night.
I walked back to the house and the two gals were up and around when I got back. One said that she wondered where I’d disappeared to. After some introductions (I admitted that I had no idea who either of them were), I asked what the deal was.
One of the girls explained to me that I had offered to drive them home, home being in this small town. I told them that while I was absolutely stupid to have driven, they were nuts to have allowed me to drive their car. They replied that I drove my car - neither of them had one. After a few moments pause to consider what they had told me, I informed them that my car was in the shop getting a new transmission.
We looked out the window and they pointed to the brown late-70s Malibu that I’d driven them home in. I told them I had no idea whose car it was. After trying to imagine how it is that I happened to have keys to a car and drove them home when none of us even had any idea who the car belonged to, we gave up. There was just no logical and likely reason that we could surmise would adequately explain the scenario.
Shortly thereafter, I left the house and walked to the Greyhound station. We agreed that I would just walk away and they would call the cops in an hour or two to let them know that an unknown vehicle was parked in their driveway. I left no name or phone number and didn’t even ask for theirs. I never saw them again.
To this day, I have no idea whose car it was, nor how I happened to have its keys in my possession.
I’d also like to note that I only drove drunk a couple more times in the month or two that followed that event, and have not done so again in the last 14 years. I figured it was important to note that I am now a grownup and know better than to do that before I got castigated.