Qagdop crashed an airplane, I don’t think he was drunk at the time though.
…when you think the cop sitting in his car at the red light is trying to pick a fight with you.
One more from me. When I was stationed in Okinawa me and a friend decided to go into town and sample the bar seen. We found some strange bar that had a cave theme to it and offered this weird purple concoction served in a huge glass…way larger than a margarita glass.
They gave us two straws and the rest is history. I still don’t know how we made it back to base camp and neither does he.
I think the Japanese police took pity on us and dumped our drunk asses in our bunks or at the front gate.
When we woke up in the barracks the next morning we both had a look of WTF?
When you’ve just been discharged from the hospital after 6 weeks in the ICU (4 weeks on a vent) and 2 weeks in the rehab unit for liver failure, bleeding esophageal varices, hepatic encephalopathy, a clotting disorder, and pancreatitis complicated by hypovolemic shock & septic ascites, and the first place you stop after discharge (against medical advice) is a liquor store to pick up a fifth of vodka (while wearing a hospital gown).
Most of the other scenarios cited here are just amateurs goofing a bit. 
I’m actually at a medical conference with that guy at present. 
When you spend more in one night than many people spend on their college educations.
More incredibly, Cerowyn was not involved in this one, I managed it all by myself.
I don’t drink much now.
When you leave your passenger in the car and don’t realize that while you were driving home he was decapitated
You wake up in the morning to find your car parked on the front lawn with the engine still running.
The first time I flew internationally on my own (from New Zealand to London), I was 16. There was free alcohol- including spirits- on the plane, and they weren’t checking ages. 
I woke up as the plane’s wheels hit the tarmac at Los Angeles, with no idea how I got there except that I had my passport and a boarding pass in my pocket and a copy of The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy on my lap. It was like something out a Robert Ludlum novel, until I remembered that I was flying to London to meet up with my Dad.
Needless to say, I didn’t touch a drop for the rest of the flight. 
You’re not my Uncle Chris, are you? 'cause if so, that’s the best “Double Life” thing ever.
(note to self: find out if Uncle Chris is still doing upholstry in Montana, or has started working at a prison [a pleasant change, from being a resident, I am sure] in the medical ward for some strange reason)
'fraid not. That wasn’t my story, but the story of a lot of my patients.
My story is a lot scarier.
Don’t worry, it’s not this kind of ex. The only reason we’re not together is because we live too far apart.
… you sincerely believe that it’s impossible for you to drink too much.
When you pay for this classic song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pprvp0Uujdg (Loudon Wainwright III “Dead Skunk”
Love, Phil
When you can’t lie down without holding on.
When you wake up in the morning and find a pair of mens shoes beside the bed, and…they are not yours.
Ok then. Now I don’t feel so bad about the Jerry Reed. Barkeep…