I suppose I could come up with several but I'll mention a recent one. I had arranged for a ride home after a whisky tasting so I drank more and dumped less into the spittoon than I normally would have. I didn't go way over the edge into oblivion, however I found it rather embarassing that when I was brought home I couldn't negotiate the steep, narrow steps up to my front door. I needed a good deal of assistance and on the way up I did stumble once, breaking the souvenir tasting glass
Not the most exciting story, I know- but why not start off easy
Their was silence........
Following on from the perplexed look on these poor lost souls faces he continued .........
'Coffee in the right hand whiskey in the left'.
The penny dropped for the tourists and all had a good laugh.
When I was 19, my best friend moved to Oslo, the BIG city in Norway. The first time I went to visit him, was also my first trip alone to this Norwegian Metropolis. We ended up in a shady bar, playing some kind of drinking game with some native girls. I showed little talent in this game, and ended up on the ugly end of a historic loosing streak. As the amount of Tequela in my body started getting equal to the amount of blood, I found it reasonable to go for some fresh air.
Out of the bar, I soon figured out that I had lost control of my own body. I aimed for my freinds appartment, but missed with several hundred meters.
When I woke up, I found myself lying inside an open cargo container on the Oslo Harbour. I was only dressed in my boxer shorts. I quickly reasoned that I had been drugged, robbed and most propably raped (after all, I was quite handsome back then).
I soon found my way out of the container, and started looking for the way to my friends appartment. I found some signs pointing me towards Oslo City Center, so it was nott too difficult. But the strangest thing happened. I started finding my own clothes along the way. All of it! Including shoes, jacket, wallet and moble phone. Apparently I had started undressing, since I was on my way to bed....
This has been a story my friends have bullied me with for 15 years now...
Later, I woke up still quite drunk but in pain & found that I was biting my lip, I didn't know why I'd be biting my lip in my sleep, but my very logical mind figured that I was dehydrated and my body was trying to wake me up to get some water.
I got up, took two steps into the kitchen, & passed out. I woke up on the floor, I was bloody because I had bit clear through my lip due to the fall.
I got up off the floor to 1) get water & 2) clean up my lip. Walked to the counter, picked up a glass, filled it with water, & then passed out again. I woke up wet, with glass bits gound into my person, a bloody lip, and I was still dehydrated.
Well I managed to get up, finally get some water, clean myself up a small bit, and stumbled back into the dark bedroom. Only to then promptly crash into the drum set that was in the middle of my room. I didn't pass out this time, just fell, but I had a nice gash in my stomach from the high-hat. The scar remained there on my stomach for good couple years. It made a nice converstion piece when retelling the story.
Oh to be a dumb 20 year old again.....
In SC, they had a weird liqour law that only allowed miniatures behind the bar. No full bottles, only the miniatures. This got to be a problem when you ordered something with more than one liquor. After a long night of ordering just that and not paying for a single drink - the marines had to take care of their corpsman after all - I tried to leave the bar.
Apparently I was very worse for the drink, because a policeman stopped me to see how I was doing. Being 22 at the time and not real good with authority figures, I started telling him that he was mistaken. My elevated voice and slurred speech must have tipped him off though, and he called in for a back-up. When the back up arrived. I must not have been very happy. I kind of remember some shouts and pushing, but not much else.
The next morning I woke up shirtless in jail. There was vomit dried on my chest and an odd aching in my chin. I felt my chin and there were these long hairs on my clean-shaven face. When I pulled on them, however, I felt a sharp pain in my chin. They were stitches. Seven stitches from my foggy run-in the night before. My comrades in the cell then began to tell me how unhappy and boisterous I was when they brought me in, but the only thing I could think of was some aspirin and a glass of water.
My captors took their time bringing the water and they had a very good sense of humor regarding my performance the night before. They let me go mid-afternoon with no charges, and none were needed. I straightened up for at least a week or two after that experience.
kljostad wrote:Let me set the standard by telling a story from when I was young and fairly new to Tequila...
Ooh ooh! Me too Me too!
Tequila night, party, ladeez......., too much, left at 3ish (so I'm told), woke up 7ish freezing cold with a layer of dew on me and a tree root for a pillow. Checked that everything was intact (I'd spent the night in the Meadows, Edinburgh ) wallet still there, trousers still on.........
Put my hands in jacket pockets to find my breakfast - a congealing kebab of unknown origin in each! Still nothing went to waste
Still have no recollection of the time from when I left the party until waking up with a mouth like an angry hedgehog. Certainly don't know where breakfast came from! I have been told of other incidents during the party that are best left to the imagination - as reality is worse
There is another tale ........but I suspect it would be censored - it involved an angry taxi driver, several simultaneous bodily functions, a pair of underpants (that are probably still dangling from a neighbour's tree as I launched them from my top floor flat window the following morning in a failed attempt to disavow them ), a fair degree of cleaning up (at least as far as the flats below), a police officer and my boss looking for an alibi. What a night! I swore then that I would never ever ever drink again. Alas, this incident was prior Meadowgate
Oh yeah - then there was the time I fell out of a train at Crianlarich...... er......
That's all folks and a lot more that you really need to know. I have now grown up and grown a beard - though I think Mrs C has a tale to tell about a particular batchelor night when we lived in Campbeltown Three days it took to bring me back from the other side
Drinking into this state is not big and not clever - but what a hoot learning the moral
After many stops along the way for drinks, and somehow managing to get rides quite easily, I ended up in the town where my sister lived. It still being fairly early, I went to visit numerous other friends for some holiday cheer. Things got very blurry very quickly.
The last thing I remember was getting to the small attic apartment that my sister had moved into when she and her husband separated. It was around 2 am by now. I had my own key (I stayed there fairly often) so let myself in and immediately fell to the couch and passed out. My final thought was that she had bought some new furniture...
Next morning, I awoke with an unfamiliar female face staring at me, while she explained to the person on the other end of the telephone (police) that there was a stranger passed out in her living room, and she had no idea how I had gotten there.
It was then that I remembered that my sister had moved to a new, larger place a few wees earlier…
Luckily, I convinced the new occupant that I was harmless, and explained what had happened. She knew of me, because she worked with my sister. She called the police back and explained the misunderstanding, then called my sister to come and get me.
The idiocy of youth. My only excuse was that we drank an awful lot of white rum.
Later, from many points of the compass, cr*ap rolled down hill on us.
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