Drixxel
08-22-2006, 12:05 AM
It was my last day at my most recent job last Saturday. A bunch of the young people working there had planned to meet up at a restaurant called Joey's on this Saturday, where we would generally engage in drinking and merriment.
I picked up a six pack of some 7% cranberry cider after work that night and headed to my friend D.J.'s place a few minutes away. He was driving, and I managed to drink all six before we arrived at the restaurant. The effects of the booze were starting to kick in, and I was feeling pretty awesome at this point, especially to be in a state of developing inebriation while hanging out on the patio of this stylish restaurant with all of my buddies from work. These fresh bastards decide to buy me a flaming lamborgini, which is to say an absurd amount of booze consumed rapidly. Went down pretty smooth, it did.
It must have been about an hour that we all stuck around here after I showed up (about 11 PM), and some people expressed an interest in relocating downtown to hit up some night clubs. I caught a ride with two chicks from the deli, and we waited around outside of a strip club called Liquid Zoo for the rest of the chaps and lasses to arrive. At this point my memory of the night's events starts to fall apart.
I remember walking with my friend Jon, whom I worked alongside with in the produce department, to Jon's bank. He's with some girl from the bakery that I don't know, and they enter the building while I'm waiting outside by a large window. I am overcome with the sudden desire to walk home. The last thing I remember is walking away from the bank down a street that would eventually lead back to my place after 45 minutes of on-foot journeying, by my estimation.
The next six hours or so may as well not even exist.
I wake up. It's morning, by my estimation around 6 AM. The world is a blurry confusion as my glasses seem to be missing, and my face feels like hell. My upper lip is cut, bloody and swollen. As best as I can figure, my face is a bloody mess at his point - I can feel dried blood and dirt caked on, centered around a large scabby thing on my left cheek. The best part? I'm lying face up on someone's driveway beside a house and car I've never seen before. My left shoe is missing, my left sock and pant leg from the shin down are soaked with blood. I've still got my wallet and watch, and while the wallet's in rough shape, everything that should be in there is in there.
I get to my feet and give a quick look around for my glasses and shoe, but without the spectacles, the search is pretty well futile. I get out into the sidewalk, and recognize the large pink sign for PJ's Cakes & Ice Cream, which lets me know I'm on Richter Street and headed in the right direction for D.J.'s place. I pass some woman walking her dogs and do my best to cover up my face as not to completely horrify her, but that's pretty well impossible at this point given what I must have looked like.
I make it to D.J.'s house, and am relieved to find that his side door is unlocked. I let myself in and wake him up. From this point forward, the world begins to once again make sense.
He drives me home, I sleep for a few hours, rise, shower, disinfect myself, check into a walk-in clinic to survey the damage, and here I am. Managed to get my glasses replaced yesterday, and my running shoes can do the trick for the short term.
The moral of the story? Drinking can definitely be a fun social time, but for the love of all that is sacred, make sure you keep an eye on your friends that have clearly drank way too much. I went over my limit because I was happy to be free of the Save-On grip and wanted to let loose and get stupid with my good friends, and that ended up fucking me over when I got seperated from my people in a rough part of town. I have no idea what happened to me, and my friends are equally as oblivious as I was seemingly alone when it happened. Needless to say, I feel pretty thrashed, but everything should heal. Ultimately, I got lucky. Could have been a lot worse.
Anyone care to share any of their exceedingly bad drinking stories?
EDIT: A brief bit of photo evidence.
http://img138.imageshack.us/img138/6017/battledamagevf6.jpg
I picked up a six pack of some 7% cranberry cider after work that night and headed to my friend D.J.'s place a few minutes away. He was driving, and I managed to drink all six before we arrived at the restaurant. The effects of the booze were starting to kick in, and I was feeling pretty awesome at this point, especially to be in a state of developing inebriation while hanging out on the patio of this stylish restaurant with all of my buddies from work. These fresh bastards decide to buy me a flaming lamborgini, which is to say an absurd amount of booze consumed rapidly. Went down pretty smooth, it did.
It must have been about an hour that we all stuck around here after I showed up (about 11 PM), and some people expressed an interest in relocating downtown to hit up some night clubs. I caught a ride with two chicks from the deli, and we waited around outside of a strip club called Liquid Zoo for the rest of the chaps and lasses to arrive. At this point my memory of the night's events starts to fall apart.
I remember walking with my friend Jon, whom I worked alongside with in the produce department, to Jon's bank. He's with some girl from the bakery that I don't know, and they enter the building while I'm waiting outside by a large window. I am overcome with the sudden desire to walk home. The last thing I remember is walking away from the bank down a street that would eventually lead back to my place after 45 minutes of on-foot journeying, by my estimation.
The next six hours or so may as well not even exist.
I wake up. It's morning, by my estimation around 6 AM. The world is a blurry confusion as my glasses seem to be missing, and my face feels like hell. My upper lip is cut, bloody and swollen. As best as I can figure, my face is a bloody mess at his point - I can feel dried blood and dirt caked on, centered around a large scabby thing on my left cheek. The best part? I'm lying face up on someone's driveway beside a house and car I've never seen before. My left shoe is missing, my left sock and pant leg from the shin down are soaked with blood. I've still got my wallet and watch, and while the wallet's in rough shape, everything that should be in there is in there.
I get to my feet and give a quick look around for my glasses and shoe, but without the spectacles, the search is pretty well futile. I get out into the sidewalk, and recognize the large pink sign for PJ's Cakes & Ice Cream, which lets me know I'm on Richter Street and headed in the right direction for D.J.'s place. I pass some woman walking her dogs and do my best to cover up my face as not to completely horrify her, but that's pretty well impossible at this point given what I must have looked like.
I make it to D.J.'s house, and am relieved to find that his side door is unlocked. I let myself in and wake him up. From this point forward, the world begins to once again make sense.
He drives me home, I sleep for a few hours, rise, shower, disinfect myself, check into a walk-in clinic to survey the damage, and here I am. Managed to get my glasses replaced yesterday, and my running shoes can do the trick for the short term.
The moral of the story? Drinking can definitely be a fun social time, but for the love of all that is sacred, make sure you keep an eye on your friends that have clearly drank way too much. I went over my limit because I was happy to be free of the Save-On grip and wanted to let loose and get stupid with my good friends, and that ended up fucking me over when I got seperated from my people in a rough part of town. I have no idea what happened to me, and my friends are equally as oblivious as I was seemingly alone when it happened. Needless to say, I feel pretty thrashed, but everything should heal. Ultimately, I got lucky. Could have been a lot worse.
Anyone care to share any of their exceedingly bad drinking stories?
EDIT: A brief bit of photo evidence.
http://img138.imageshack.us/img138/6017/battledamagevf6.jpg