Here is a great story from a coworker-
1996. Sorority Party. My future wife and I attend her sorority's formal offsite. I think it was City Hall downtown. We were charter bussed out there. I remember it being really cold that night. Not really knowing my limit with different kinds of alcohol, I decide I'm going to binge drink martinis.
Holy shit. Very effective. No change after five, hitting a wall at six. The next two hours, I lost count. Feeling good though, we decide to leave, since its pretty late. Waiting outside for the bus, maybe it was the cold and the alcohol mixed that started making my world spin. I can handle this; this is nothing. I can hold my liquor.
We get on the bus. My vision is screwed and moving reflections on the windows arent helping the situation. Honey, I'm gonna get sick I think. Baby we're sitting in the bus and the bus is moving. Try to hold it. No I cant hold it lift your feet, hon. I looked at the floor of the bus and stared at the incredible amount of sick I just left there. Partially digested martini-laced food. Oh it stunk so bad but I felt like a hundred bucks. I just sat there attempting to stare at it with watery eyes with a big smile on my face. More people in the bus were catching on to the experience. Luckily it was time to get off the bus.
My future wife didn't say anything and hustled me off that thing. As we got off she pointed out to me that there was a bathroom on the the back of the bus. Whoops. Why didn't you tell me? I didn't notice it either. The few people that were on that shuttle were trying pretty appalled to say the least. I started laughing because I didn't care. Fuck 'em. I didn't know any of them anyway.
The wonderful anonymity of being a commuter student. I still felt like a dick for a little while though. Needless to say my future wife wouldn't even kiss me that night. The next morning I noticed my shoes and cuffs of my pants were splattered with vomit. I know I held them up when I let go. That stuff is hard to wash off.
Never drank a martini again.
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