For some reason, I had posted a very long winded blog yesterday that talked about my exploits this past Thursday evening, but it didn't show up or got deleted somehow. While the events of the evening weren't pretty and I am in no way proud of what happened, for the sake of posterity and keeping myself humble, I've decided to once again put myself through the process and write out the events of that evening.
Last Thursday, the 31st of November, it was the going away party for a co-worker. Being as such, a bunch of people decided to go out to a bar after work and give her a nice sending off party. I was allowed to leave work early and attend the said party, so I was fairly pleased about that. So straight from work, I headed to downtown Manhattan and met up with many people from my company.
After around 5-6 beers, I was talking with Nick and he wanted to smoke a cigarette, so we walked outside. To my surprise I ran into Chris, an attorny from the firm that I used to work at. We talked about fantasy football for awhile and said goodbye. A few minutes later, Nick and I walked back inside to continue the evening. Now, here is where the story take a turn for the worse.
The next thing that I can remember, is going over the Manhattan bridge, desperatly trying to open the window of the cab so as to empty the contents of my stomach on the highway, while traveling at around 40mph. I didn't quite make it all the way out the window, so a nice bit of the contents of my stomach ended up going down the front of my shirt and all over my kahkis. Not one of my prouder moments.
The next memory that I have is the cabbie telling me to get out of his cab and to pay him $50 so that he can go and have his cab cleaned. I handed over pretty much all the money in my wallet to him and got out of the cab. At this point, I realized how drunk I was. I could barley walk, so I decided that it may be a good idea to call Laura and let her know that I just got home. I called her on my Blackberry and she was crying because as it turned out, the last time that I spoke to her (8:30ish when I was outside with Nick) had been quite awhile ago, seeing as how it was around midnight at that point. I explained to Laura, or at least she figured out that I was exceedingly drunk. She asked me when I was going to be home and it was at that point that I looked up to see where I was. At the time I remember thinking..."what the fuck... I don't know any of these streets" meanwhile, I could feel myself reeling back from trying to focus on reading the street signs. Laura did a quick Google Maps search and found that I was in the middle of Bed Sty.....at midnight...with vomit all over the front of myself, talking on my Blackberry in perhaps one of the most dangerous areas in Brooklyn.
At that point, my Blackberry died. I honestly started to cry, because I didn't know how the hell I was going to get home. I wandered around for another 15 minutes before I luckily found the JMZ subway, which is actually a raised platform in that area. I walked up the subway and realized that I was at the Myrtle stop, which is way further out than I should have been. As it turns out, the fucking cab driver intentionally dropped me in the ghettoest part of Brooklyn because I had puked in his cab. Granted, it was not very good of me to do that, but it's not like I didn't hand the bastard $60 because of it. Ugh...
So anyway, tear filled eyes, vomit shirt and all, I boarded the JMZ train. Luckily for me, some nice girl explained to me how to get home. I can remember begging people on the train to tell me how to get home. I must have been a strange sight in my Brooks Brothers dress shirt and Rockport shoes, stupid drunk, begging for information on how to get home. The girl told me when to get off, and pointed me in the right dirrection. Another few minutes walk, and I finally arrived at home home.
When I walked in the door, Laura was there, crying, I had some tears in my eyes, but that didn't matter, because all I wanted to do was sleep. I quickly stripped off my clothes and fell asleep on the couch. Now, for anyone that knows me, when I get THAT drunk, I tend to have "accidents", well, this time was no exception. Sometime after I went to bed, I got up and decided that our ottoman looked like a urinal. Enough said. I had some messiness to clean up in the morning. Not a good thing. That's not even saying how pissed Laura was at me.
After talking to Nick the following day,he told me that later in the night, I started to drink Chocolate Martinis, which was the drink of choice that evening for the majority of the party goers in the bar. Luckily for me, by the time I got super wasted, everyone else at the bar was wasted too, so I didn't make that much of a fool out of myself.
Honestly, I have no idea how I got that drunk. I don't remember drinking anything, and I don't even remember being drunk at all. The last thing I remember while sober, was talking with Chris outside the bar. While I don't want to pass blame away on to someone other than myself, I wouldn't be surprised if I happened to pick up a drink that had something in it, and I further exasserbated the situation be drinking liquor. Or, another possible scenario was that I just started drinking liquor and killed all the brain cells that were associated with that memory. I dunno, and I'll probably never know. What I DO know, is that I felt damn bad when I brought my clothes to the dry cleaner the next morning and the woman at the counter covered her nose because of the terrible terrible smell of vomit, perspiration and shame. Yes....shame.
It's just a sad state of affairs when a 24 year old, who's had problems associated with drinking in the past, allows himself to get like that. I can honestly say that there is only one other time in my life where I have felt quite as ashamed as I did the following morning, and that other time got my ass kicked out of school.
Anyway, I just wanted to get that story down in writing, because I feel that it's an important learning experience for me, where I ended up getting very lucky in the fact that I didn't get robbed/mugged/stabbed/raped, and didn't embarrass myself at the bar in front of my co-workers. The only thing that I lost was around $60 and a whole lot of pride. Could have been worse....much much worse.