If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been the last few days…… guess what? That makes 2 of us.
Saturday night, about 20 of us went out to a local waterfront restaurant, The Riverview, for what was SUPPOSED to be a nice night of dinner and dancing to celebrate my good friend Jessica’s 40th birthday.
Things started off innocently enough. I had a half dozen oysters and some crab encrusted Mahi Mahi. It was delicious. Of course, it was ALSO the only thing I had eaten all day. That would be important later.
I had a few beers with my dinner. Not many. Maybe 3 or 4. I’m not a big drinker, as a rule. At least not anymore. And definitely not like SOME people I know. But I can handle my beer. Dinner was not the problem.
The problem was that after we finished dinner, we all moved into the bar/club area where I decided I should upgrade to Tequila.
I really don’t know what the Hell got into me. Because I fucking HATE Tequila. Things never end well with me and Tequila. In fact, the last time I got drunk on Tequila I ended up chasing Earl for about 20 blocks down a residential neighborhood. That’s a story for another time.
In THIS story, I continued to do Tequila shots with anyone who would do one with me. And I was really feeling pretty good. Not feeling the side effects at all. So I did some more. And then some more.
I had about a dozen under my belt when I stumbled out onto the boardwalk for some fresh air where I found one of my pals who asked if I cared to partake in the smoking of some wacky weed. Not wanting to be rude, I partook (I did a LOT of partooking).
Then back inside the bar I scampered, now feeling absolutely no pain, where I apparently decided that the best thing to do after getting stoned out of your mind is to follow it up with more Tequila shots.
That’s pretty much where the night ended for me. At least, what I can remember of it. Everything else from the night is just a series of jumbled snapshots in my head.
What I DO remember:
1) A drunk girl hit on me on the dance floor. I ran up to Friz and said “Did you see that? She wants me! I’m gonna go for it!”. Friz told me that, in my current state, if I could somehow manage to make that happen, she would gladly drive me and my new friend home so I could seal the deal. I don’t remember getting any (from ANYBODY), so I guess I somehow fucked that one up.
2) One of my friends told me he knew a “guy” who could get us shrooms, so I ordered him to call the guy, thinking he would deliver them like Dominoes. That never happened, either.
3) I remember opening my eyes to find that I was being driven home. I also remember beginning to rapid-fire vomit all over my shirt, while Friz somewhere in the distance was screaming, “Not in the car, you jackass! Lean out the window!”
4) I remember somehow being in my house, stripping naked except for my shoes, and crawling on all fours until I got to our 2nd floor stairs. I remember starting to climb them, and falling asleep completely diagonally on the stairs.
5) Friz must have pulled me up the stairs, because the next thing I remember was waking up on the 2nd floor hallway about 6 hours later. I had a pillow and a blanket over me, and a substance that looked remarkably like oysters in a bucket to my right. They didn’t look that appetizing anymore.
Anyway, I crawled (literally) to my bed, and I stayed there till about 3pm Sunday. At which time I made the Herculean effort of walking to the couch, laying down, and watching Netflix until 10pm when I went back to bed.
Not one of my proudest moments, I’ll admit, but at least I gave my posse something to talk about for the next millennia or so. For those of you fortunate enough to be my Facebook friend, those pictures of me that people have been putting up are, unfortunately for me, 100 percent authentic.
There is also video, but I’ll fucking KILL the scallywag who’s got the stones to attempt to throw THAT shit up on the interwebs.