Worst drunk everFollow

Ok, I got to thinking about this after a comment in another thread and after reviewing the length of my reply decided it merits a thread of its own:

What's the worst epsiode you've ever had being drunk?


For me, it's a tie. It shouldn't be, but it is.

Nominee #1, the should-be winner:

My first REAL drunk. I'd been buzzed a few times, sure. Tipsy, inebriated, even. But never stinking-a[/i]ss drunk until this time. At the tender age of fifteen, I talked one of the locals into buying two half-gallons and a fifth of liquor for myself and a buddy. Lord Calvert (fifth), gin (1/2 gal) and vodka (1/2 gal). The gin and vodka were exceedingly cheap. Russieka vodka, I can't recall the gin brand.

My buddy and I went to a hunting cabin with some of his cousins and as deer season wasn't in, we were sure to not be interrupted. We had enough food and such to last the weekend and some other people we knew were coming by Saturday night. I had recently purchased an S-10 pickup and was driving, even though you can't get a license til you're 16 in GA (rural ain't all bad, yall).

So, Friday night we didn't drink hardly anything. The stuff we had wasn't too smooth and we needed an audience to show off for, ya know. About 6PM Saturday we got one. His cousins showed up and one of them was dating a recent ex-girlfriend of mine. After a few swigs, the liquor wasn't so rough any more. I was particularly sulky because I liked the guy she was dating and couldn't come up with an excuse to be nasty to him. So I drank instead. Hard and fast. I killed the vodka over the course of three hours. I spent about two more hours crawling around in the woods puking it back up.

Finally everyone had had enough of the obnoxious drunk and my buddy's brother was going to take me home since I had managed to scare everyone when I got done puking up the vodka and started drinking the gin to 'wash the taste out of my mouth.' I clearly had problems. Some guy who took offense at my witty observation of 'you sure do got a big ole head to fill up that big ole hat' indicated it would be a good thing if they took me home before I drank myself to death. One of my problems with going home was that I objected to the guy driving my truck because I just knew he'd been drinking (he hadn't). Finally, in the exasperated condition one succumbs to dealing with a stubborn drunk, he agreed to give me his new car if he wrecked my truck. Of the way home, I only recall that it was extremely muddy and that I cussed him when my head popped off the dash and hit the window.

The next day (4 hours later) I woke up at home, in bed with my truck parked in the driveway. It had two flat tires and a cracked windshield and was so muddy you couldn't tell any of it. I've sicne figured out that the tires were flat from sliding sideways (seal broken) and the windshield cracked from my hard head coming off the dash. But I still spent two days harassing the guy about the keys to my new car he owed me. (Yes, I'm an as[i]shole, it shouldn't come as a surprise at this point.) I had to take the rims off my truck and pressure wash them to get the clay out well enough that driving didn't shake you off the road.

The reason this does not qualify as a clear winner is that
1. I never got busted by my parents.
2. I had no hangover whatsoever.


Nominee #2, who has all the action.

Fast forward a few years. I'm twenty. In college, I occasionally swing by my parents house just so they know I'm alive, but I mostly live with a group of young fellas like myself who go to school, leave school for work and leave work to drink, then pass out whereever we are. For the most part we never got really tore down because we couldn't afford to. We just stayed sorta happy all the time. Our part time jobs only netted around a hundred bucks a week after gas and living expenses (I had a HUGE rent of $200 before we split it 3 ways), but a hundred bucks goes a long way towards staying drunk if you believe in budgeting properly.

So now it's the end of the school year and my best friend in the whole world was graduating high school. He'd been sort of feeling left out over the past year or so that I didn't spend as much time hanging out with him as I used to but since what I was doing looked really fun he understood. I promised him that no matter what, he'd have the best graduation party 'The Lake' (our locality) had ever seen.

I worked extra hard, stayed sober a lot and put in a lot of effort and cash to go with what he had from his Dad (who was ultra-cool and not only let us have the party at his house but also threw in for all the food and didn't stop a single thing that night) and we had a hell of a party. Remember from Revenge of the Nerds when the jocks catch their house on fire? We did that to the shrubs.

I remember being in two fights that night. The first fight I wound up throwing a guy over the rail to the lower portion of their split-level living room and then jumping off on top of him. We wound up calling it a tie when it looked like it was going to get down to biting and looking for rocks to bash heads with. The second fight is less clear, but I remember that it started (for me) when some guy hit me in the back with a leg from a stool (I found out that's what it was later, at the time I just knew it was a stick.) I didn't even know him at the time, but you can't just let something like that pass. He was a lot bigger than I and a lot closer to sober so I didn't do too well (read: got my *** kicked) until the guy from the first fight hit the guy I was fighting with a five gallon bucket. After that, I won pretty fast. Some people just lose enthusiasm when things are starting to get fun.

The next image (that's mostly what I have from that night) is where I was proving that you CAN turn up a bottle of golden grain and just drink. Next, Karioke (I just wasn't appreciated for some reason. They didn't know talent when they heard it is more like it.)

Then I got mean. My buddy said he had to puke so we headed to his bathroom (he basically had a basement apartment in the house). Only when we got there, some jerk had passed out in the shower stall with his legs hanging all out where you could trip over him.

After I managed to kick him out of the way, I saw the greatest of sins occurring! Of all the people, my kid brother was hugging the toilet I'd been guiding my now-green friend to.

I peeked around his shoulders and saw that there was no vomit in the bowl. So he obviously wasn't done with his business. Politely, I inquired how long he was planning to hog the bowl all to himself.

No reply.

I asked again.

Retching noise, no splash. Three seconds later, repeat.

Ahh, I finally discerned the problem! The poor boy needed help. Squatting near his ear, I asked if he'd like for me to bring him a nice greasy pork sandwich.

Nothing. Another dry-heave.

Howsabout a nice big glass filled with hot mayonaise?

Another dry-heave.

At this point, a thought flitted thorugh my mind that perhaps this uninvited, life-crowding, follow me around and wanna be like me excuse for a kid brother could be faking to get attention. (I was pretty sure he used Mercurachrome and a Qtip to fake the Chicken Pox when I was in 2nd grade just because I had them and was getting all the attention, so this wasn't a first-time offense.)

So I pulled out the big guns. 'Hey Scott. Get a load of this.' Quick turn and......blaaaat! I laid a great big juicy fart on top of his head. My stomach was as solid as an iron cauldron and *I* felt a little woozy when I caught a whiff of that one.

Another dry-heave.

That's it, I thought! This boy needs some discipline. So, as any good big brother would, I began yelling at him, 'You better get that puke on up, boy! I ain't got all goddamn night to wait on you, you little pus[i][/i]sy!' Each sentence was accentuated by a swift kick in the buttocks and a 'Donk' sound as his head struck porcelain. About five kicks into this, I heard my friend's giggles had started to sound a little wetter than they should. I turned, and sure enough, he had given up and just puked in the sink. Mission failed.

I went out the side door to get some air and think. I was really overheated, plus I thought that maybe my brother would think I didn't like him if I kept on kicking him when there was no longer a need for it. It did help, though. I saw some vomit in his hair, so he got it on up with the kick-induced rocking motion. (He never did thank me, I guess he forgot to. Doesn't matter, that's what family is for.)

It was a really clear night and I distinctly recall looking at the stars for a while and then realizing I had fallen over at some point. When I got up I was really dizzy. I looked at my watch and saw that it was 2AM. This party had started at about 4PM so I felt like I'd pulled my shift.

Suddenly, I couldn't recall what was so fun that I'd want to be out at 2AM when I'd promised my grandfather (a strict AA member who regularly preaches at me about drinking) that I would drive fenceposts for him the next day. Just thinking about that made me start feeling sick. I'd be using a 40 lb post-driver to literally pound posts into the packed clay dams around some of his ponds. Whoooeee, time to go home and get some shuteye.

I started walking to my car (darn thing WOULD be uphill, wouldn't it?). Forty minutes later I had completed the epic journey of ten yards and managed to open the car door. Then I sat down, got my right foot and placed it on the gas pedal, put my right hand on the steering wheel, braced my left foot in preparation to shift my weight and slide the rest of the way into the car....and passed out for four hours in that exact position. Some kind soul came by and wedged a pine cone in the corner of the door to make the interior light and buzzer go off. To this day, I do not know who my benefactor was.

The sun was dazzling bright in my face (just rising good). Looked at my watch, it said 6:35. Ewww, bad taste in my mouth. Gotta drive home. WTF, there's a pine cone in my door. Kick, flop, kick. Ok, close the door. Keys, where are my keys? Ignition. Can I do this? Yeah, I'm ok.

Wooo, I hope I'm ok.

I managed to get 85% of the 1.5 miles home in about 15 or so minutes. Then there was 'the curve.' It's a full 90 degrees, unbanked. There are only about 15 houses on the road after 'the curve' before it dead ends, so it shouldn't be a big deal. And usually isn't. Just slow down under 15 or go in the ditch; your choice. It took me a good minute or two to round 'the curve' that particular morning. I had to back up twice and just sit there for a few seconds to sort things out. I was having problems getting the wheel turned before my car could idle through the distance involved.

Fortunately for me, the hovel I called home was the last house on the road. The road dead-ended into my drive. So I pushed the gate open with my bumper and drove as close to the porch as I could. I shut off the car, gathered my dignity, and crawled up the steps across the porch and into the house.

I made it all the way to the bedroom on my feet once I used a chair for a 'little help.' The moment I laid down and closed my eyes....spin, spin spin, the world is spinning slowly to the right. My eyes snapped open in alarm and the world unwound back to the left for a while. The bathroom, as it is in most houses, was in close proximity. I managed to crawl there before the vomiting started.

After the worst of things passed, I stayed there until the phone rang at 8:20 (hold me, American Standard, I feel so dirty).

My grandfather, of course. Since I'd never been late or missed any days helping him, he wanted to know if something was wrong, especially since I hadn't called him. In my infinite wisdom, I stated, 'Sorry Papa, but I'm WAY too drunk to come to work today.'

It took three days before I felt close to right again. I no longer chug Golden Grain. Frank the tank is dead.

The reasons why I haven't declared this one as the clear winner:

1. I had lots of fun; maybe even enough to offset the pain.
2. I met a new friend who I keep in touch with to this day. (The guy I got in the first fight with. He's now married with 3 kids. Whodathunkit? )



Anyway, those are the two episodes that I qualify as my worst, though there have been others that were also fun and interesting. Who's had really bad drunk experiences worth sharing?

Nah, I'm a social drinker these days. I peaked and have since mellowed.

Could be. Mayhap I'm wallowing in the glory of days past. I'll have to bring this up during the next session with my shrink. *IF* he ever makes bail, that is.

My worst drunken experience definately occured this past summer. Some of you may recall me posting about my girlfriend of the time, and this night was almost directly responsible for our splitting up (we're still friends though, just in case anybody cared).

She and some friends had been planning a party for over two weeks, the party to end all summer parties. Both me and my best friend had to pull lots of strings to get off of work that night, then drove about an hour away to Northern Illinois' campus, where her friend's apartment was. We got there about 9:30 before anybody else showed up, but this party was supposed to be off the hook.

Well, about 10:30, everybody starts showing up. 'Everybody' turned out to be all her friends from work, which was basically just 15 guys. They didn't have any alcohol, so they all left and came back a half hour later with a few cases of cheap beer, the staple for any college kid.

The thing that really started the night off was my girlfriend taking shots. Lots of them. I just stuck to beer and played it cool, thinking that any minute, she would introduce me to all her friends and I could start to mingle. This never happened. I never got introduced to all her friends, who were friends with eachother, so I ended up sitting on the couch drinking with best friend, just the two of us, for most of the night. I know a lot will say that I should have introduced myself, but I didn't, so don't bring it up.

Anyways, as I became more inebriated, I finally started talking to some of her work buddies. Apparently, I said something about her that I shouldn't have, and she had to restrain one of her work buddies from kicking my *** (I was gone, and he had at least 50 pounds on me; it wouldn't have even been a fight, more of a beating).

After that, I resumed my sulky drinking on the couch, only to watch my girlfriend dance with a few of the guys she worked with. You could probably chalk up the bumping and grinding to all the shots she'd had, but to me, it was a slap in the face. I even went outside and around the corner just to let off some steam and smoke a cigarette, when her friend (the girl hosting the party) came out to see what was wrong, and basically tell me that I was being an assh[/i]ole.

So, eventually I decided to call it a night and headed upstairs to the spare bedroom, where I could pass out and get some sleep. As I'm laying on the floor (my best friend had already taken the bed), I hear my girlfriend puking in the bathroom right across the hall. As she comes out, I'm laying there thinking "serves her right" when I hear her exclaim in joy that now she can drink more.

So, I drag my drunk *** off the floor and head downstairs to try and get her to stop drinking for the night. I politely tell her that she's probably had enough and try to get her to come upstairs and go to sleep with me when she says, in a pissy tone of voice, those star-crossed words, "If I wanted my mother to come along, I would have invited her."

Now the **** has hit the fan. I storm back upstairs thinking to myself that she can drink herself to death if she wants, I don't care. When I get back the bedroom, my friend has vacated the bed, so I climb up there and pass out. I was probably asleep for about an hour when my girlfriend comes up and crawls in bed with me, and dammit, she's 'in the mood'. I was nicely asleep, and quite frankly, still mad at her, so I just wanted to go back to sleep, but she would have none of it.

What followed was the most sloppy sex I've ever had. Not a good way to end the night.

I woke up the next day and helped clean up, then headed home to take a shower and get ready for work. I didn't talk to the girlfriend all that day. Big mistake.

When she finally called me the day after, when I was headed out with my guy friends for a "guy's night out", we couldn't seem to talk for more than 5 minutes without yelling at eachother. It wasn't just about the night before, but about all of the little things that we didn't like about eachother. It really wasn't a very pleasent conversation, and my friends didn't say a word to me the rest of the car ride.

When we finally got to the club we were headed to, I just broke down. I was sobbing pretty much all night, thinking about the things we both said, and how I could have done things differently. Luckily, I have great friends, and they helped me to work things out, and supported me when I knew that I was right. They had heard the whole phone conversation (since we were pretty much shouting at eachother), and they helped to assure me that I was not totally at fault for everything that happened.

Well, after talking to her a few more times on the phone, we decided that we really shouldn't see eachother anymore, or we should at least take a break. This was about two weeks before we both went back to college, so in hindsight, it was probably for the better, but it was still pretty hard me. Some of you might remember a thread I made about being in love at my age, and that was driven by these events.

All in all though, I really wish that I hadn't gone to the party, then I had gone to work. That was hands down the worst drunken night I've ever had.

Twiztid

Ok here's mine;
I dont get hangovers normally, no matter how much I drink. But this one time was the hang overs of all hangovers and so my worst experience with drinking.

I went to Belgium a few years ago with my husband and his band. They were touring over there and in Holland. Belgium is known for their beer and of course we had to try as much as we could. Im not a fan of beer but the beer in Belgium will hook you (as it did me).

About 3 days into the tour we headed to a show. At each show the bartenders would give us as much free alcohol as we wanted, but this place they only allowed us 1 beer per person. We each had our beer at the show and realized we were still wide awake and wanted to relax. For the first few dasy of the tour we were sleeping above a bar so a few of us went down when we got back to enjoy the night. 2 friends of mine (husband and wife) and me grabbed ourselves a glass of Duvel, the most potent beer I have yet to come across. It goes down so smooth you dont realize how fast youre drinking it and it has an alcohol content of 8.5%, where US beers are lucky to have 3%. We finished our beers and had a few more and then decided to walk back up to our rooms.

The moment all of us stood up we knew we were in trouble. The floor just would not stay still! We shuffled over to the bar counter, held on for dear life and baby steped to the other side of the bar to get to the door that led to our rooms. Once there (it was a feat in itself) we had to walk up a set of steep steps that had a giant rope instead of a railing. All of us clung to the ropes for dear life, and after about 10 minutes we made it up the 12 steps. We commenced to partying for our wonderful acheivements of making it up the stairs alive.

The next morning I woke up and could feel the alcohol still slushing around in my stomache. Upon getting up after 6 hours of sleep I was still drunk. Unfortunately we had a show bright and early and none of us had time to recoup. So we got in the van and headed over to a little bar where the band was playing.
When I walked in the smell of smoke hit me like a on of bricks. I am a smoker, but I still cant stand a room filled with smoke. Even sober it makes me gag. Being drunk (or hangover) it was making my tummy do flip flops. Flip flops with alcohol still slushing is not a good thing to happen. The whole time we were there I was so queasy I had to keep rushing outside for fresh air to calm my stomache. Each time I was outside it would subside, but the moment I walked back into the bar I would get worse. I couldnt stay outside though cause I had to help the band.

I remembered hearing that greasy food helps when your drunk or have a hangover, so I asked where I could grab a cheeseburger. The bartender pointed me to a little diner a block away so I walked to the joint with thoughts of greasy cheesy gooey burgers. When I got there I ordered one, but sadly, Belgium does not make greasy cheeseburgers. They make gourmet burgers. They gave me a baked burger on french bread, with absolutely zero grease. I took one bite and it was so dry I couldnt even get it down.
I threw the burger away and dejectedly walked back to the bar. I would have to tough it out. When I got back to the bar it was the same before but I stayed inside this time when I started to get queasy. It got to be too much and after 10 mminutes of suffering I ran out of the room where the band was playing, flew down the hall, found the bathroom and let loose. I think I threw up for about 10 minutes until all the alcohol was gone. I felt much better after that but it took me a day or so before I touched beer again.

Yeah, I've noticed that most of the heaviest drinking is done at 16-17. I was a full-blown alcoholic those days; I once spilled a 40-oz McDonald's cup full of vodka into a fry-o-lator vat I was cleaning out.

Your friend was upset because you got to drunk and not because you woke up without clothes with his girlfriend? How did your wife feel about that?

Well I did have my underwear on and his girlfriend was the only sober person and was charged with making sure I didn't choke on my own vomit or such, while I was passed out, hense why they put me in her bed.
I told my Wife about the whole night. At the time she was pissed that i got that drunk, rang her at midnight, had ruined a new shirt and basically made a fool of myself.

As some of you may know, one of my main hobbies is medevil reanactment, so this being the case I have many friends who know how to home brew. So about two or three years ago at Pennsic

http://images.google.com/images?q=pennsic&hl=en&btnG=Google+Search

Where every night is party night I find my self weilding a sword and drinking because I was thirsty. I kid you not, I was drinking home brewed grain alcohol to cure thirst from the heat of the day. The three things I can clearly remember are drinking something called "Green" walking out toward the castle and wakeing up 6 hours later still drunk with about 100 heavy fighters circleing around me asking if I was still breathing. The best line I heard from one of the guys was hey Johan this guy smells just like that "Green" Stuff you made the other night. Johan Oh you mean the stuff that was over 100 proof. Spent the next two days drinking 3 gallons of water to clear my system so I could walk and not die.

Edited, Mon Dec 27 14:36:59 2004 by jademage

Well Here is my most recent one. I decided to go over to one of my better friends house because he was having a party. Well it turned out to be more of a get-together than a party. I got kind of mad because it was mostly dudes and my friend had told me he was inviting some girls from his work but i guess he lied or every single one of them didnt feel like coming. So he said don't worry about it and hands me a bottle of jack D. I start drinking. I don't stop until its gone. Well it started snowing which was the first snow of the season here in Md, so someone suggest we take my car for a drive. Genious! By now that jack has hit me pretty hard and next thing I know my friend is doing donuts in the local fire department parking lot. He probably has done around 20 when I want to take a try at it, it was my car after all. Well I do a whoping 1 and decide to leave when on the way out I see blue lights. ****. They ask me for license and ask if I've been drinking and I say no. Then they ask if they can breathalise me and I reply "f*** no" or that's what my friend says. Well after the sobriety test which I fall on my face they slap the cuffs on me. I'm on 16 and the cop tells me your f***ed, no lie. So I have a dui and have to go to court and probably loosing my license so I consider this my worst time drunk ever. Oh yeh another funny thing while the cop was getting my info in the system and im handcuffed to the bench, I manage to get my hands out of the cuffs, and try to leave, which I was then slammed to the floor. Not fun but funny.

Edited, Mon Dec 27 16:25:16 2004 by Sariont

Last June when i was at the tender age of 16 i went on a family holiday to Majorca.

On the third night we were there my buddy and myself happened to spot a stunner of a young lady and needless to say we both went after her. We met her at about 5 o' clock in the after noon and start competing against each other for her by doing proceedingly more stupid things, while it was still light it consisted of jumping off ten foot diving boards backwards and denting walls.

As the night closed in towards 8 o' clock the drinking games started, just a few beer downing contest which was all smiles and laughs until the vodka was brought out.

Drink in Majorca is ridiculously cheap coming in at about £0.40 a pint of draught beer and £1.00 for a double vodka + mixer. We started drinking double vodka's and coke in competition intil about 10.

By this time i for one was completely smashed, the room was spinning and i was slurring everything. Throughout this whole process the girl, who will now be refered to as jailbait, was giving out complete mixed signals; during the beer drinking stage she had been cuddling up to me and all that general stuff so i was pretty confident i was going to win.

At about 10.30 the booze was taking it's toll and i had to stumble to the toilet. When i came back the ***** had her tongue down the other guys throat.

After seeing this i started ordering whisky shots from the bar and managed to swallow three before i keeled over. By this time (11 ish) i was randomly blacking out and stumbling everywhere and the other guy was trying to make amends with me but i was having none of it.

The next part of my story is from eye-witness accounts as i don't remember any of it. Apparently we where sitting next to each other on a bench outside and he was falling over me saying sorry and that i could have the girl and other drunken slurs, i pushed him off me so he pushed me back at which point i elbowed him in the face which bust his nose open.

we started brawling in the middle of the street outside the pub. apparently he was winning because he was a hell of a lot more sober than me when i threw a high roundhouse kick, smacked him on the jaw and skited off my feet and thumped onto the concrete.

To recap, this had started at 5.00 as a friendly contest for jailbaits affection and ended in him lying in the middle of the road unconcious and bleeding freely from his nose and myself barely concious near by him throwing up where i lay.

We stayed there for god knows how long until our friends managed to get off their lazy ***** and help us. Some kindly soul managed to help me up to my room about 2.30 after blacking out and emptying all the contents of my stomach numerous time i fell asleep in the toilet.

Thank god i'm older and wiser nowadays

While I don't have any stories quite as entertaining as the previous ones, I do have 2 bits of wisdom to impart:

1. DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE DUMBASS.

2. "Beer before liquour, you've never been sicker. Liquour before beer, and you're in the clear."

Drink Vodka and **** before you drink beer, otherwise you'll most likely throw it all up later with excessive force.

Spring 1991, Junior Year in High School. I am an absolute LIGHTWEIGHT when it comes to drinking. I have always been and still am the designated sober person at every party and the one freaking time I'm not...

Almost every San Diego, CA high school kid heads down to Tijuana to drink since the drinking age is 18 in Mexico. TJ is only 20 minutes away, give or take, and Revolucion Boulevard in TJ is just rows and rows of clubs, bars, whatever.

I went down with a bunch of my guy friends and their girlfriends and my best guy friend Chris tells me "Hey, why don't you drink this time? I'll watch ya." So I'm like "Sure, why not? You only live once." Famous last words.

So we're going from place to place. Dancing, drinking, and I'm pounding down tequila shots and margaritas. So we leave one club to go to another one down the way. And I'm not very steady at this point so I put my arm out and around someone WHO I THOUGHT WAS MY FRIEND CHRIS and lean into him and I look up and it's this freaking drunk, dirty old bum who was smiling down at me!

I completely freak out and start crying, jumping up and down (the hissy fit that only high school girls can do) and I turn around and I see Chris and all his friends rolling on the ground and laughing their asses off! I completely jump away from the bum and run back to Chris and the guys and pretty much demanded that we go home at this point. Their girlfriends all felt bad for me and kind of mad at them and backed me up on this. But the whole way home, Chris and the guys are just laughing to the point they're about to p*ss in their pants.