MUSIC!
Not a tremendously great example, as I was very drunk at the time, but the only one I got.
STORY!
The Party of Many Incidents
It was around the summer of 2005...looking forward to becoming the only one of my Dad's four sons to make it to senior year of high school, and addicted to wearing my kilt I got at Edinburgh, Scotland that year's spring break.
Three of my NJROTC buddies moved into a house that belonged to one of their brothers, and it was time to finally start throwing some long-overdue parties! With a cooperative older sibling at our disposal, we chipped in hundreds of dollars to get as thrashed as possible.
I know I'm missing some things, because some people either hogged all of one item, or I just never had an interest to drink it, but I know we wound up with;
2x 6-packs of Guinness
2x 6-packs of Shiner Bock (great Texan beer)
4x 6-packs of Smirnoff for the bitches
A handle of Smirnoff vodka
A pretty big bottle of Jaegermeister
Jose Cuervo Silver Tequila
Jack Daniels
Goldschlagger
handle of Gin
Thunderbird (which I didn't touch)
and probably some other shit I really honest-to-God can't remember...we marvelled at a full-freezer which contained no food, and a full fridge. (there might've been some cans of some really shitty beer.)
Fast-forward a bit, while everyone was doing shots, I started with the beer first...which, as I later found out was my first mistake. The Guinness tasted like shit, to be honest...I had a Guinness every-other pub I went to in the UK...specifically, I remember having a Guinness in London, Bath, Carlisle, and ...it was either Glasgow or Stirling, but either way, they malted it differently over there and it tasted great...but the bottle I had in my hand was very, dreadfully different. I tried to tough it up, and pretend I enjoyed it...I don't know why I felt I had to prove myself in front of them, but it was my first time drinking.
I finished that bottle, stupidly opened another one, and got down to halfway before I couldn't stand the shit anymore and needed something else. I crack open a Smirnoff and immediately get laughed at...it was a Smirnoff Black, and it tasted pretty good, but to spite them, I downed it anyway.
Finally, they said, "Don't you open another bitch beer! C'mere and take a shot!" they started me off on Goldschlagger; for those who don't know, the delightful concoction with flakes of real gold in it, that serve to get you drunk quicker by cutting your esophagus on it's way down. Sounds terrifying right? Instead, it was delicious and "spicy"...and I couldn't get enough of the stuff...I might've done two or three more before I insisted on mixing it up a little.
Someone suggested doing Jaeger Bombs, but we had no Red Bull...so we did a volley of straight Jaeger...from there someone mixed a Gin & Tonic, and after nursing someone else's while they were at the bathroom, I got my first Tequila shot.
I must've been feeling good, because I immediately loved the stuff. I was head-to-head with my Jew friend in who could take the most Tequila...by my final shot, which realistically was probably six later, I was doing the process all wrong...I think I bit the lime, took the shot, then licked the salt from my hand with a look of utter shit-facery.
...and so it began...I was hammered, and the tequila hadn't quite had a chance to fully get into my bloodstream. I didn't realize it, but I was about to become the most drunk I have ever become in my life, with near horrible consequences...
I recall I was jolly at first...staggering around in my kilt and black BDU top, wearing boots. I clomped across the kitchen to lean on the table, then clomped into the living room to plop on the couch. There were three women there, one my Jew friend's girlfriend, the other two sort-of up for grabs.
I'll just tell you now, I know nothing happened. Before I blacked out, one of the available women left for another party (lame) while the other accompanied my jew friend and his girlfriend in their bedroom. If I were sober, it would've been obvious to me what they were doing, and I would've gladly watched, as both women involved were hot.
Instead, I scrambled back to the living room, and there's my friend who just got out of Military Police training from the National Guard!
...Then I blacked out...
According to recollection, I then proceeded to stammer incoherently about Jurassic Park, and how Velociraptors frightened me as a little child because they could open doors, and seemed unstoppable. I proceeded to propel myself past them outside, where I happily flashed everyone outside by pulling up my kilt, worn traditionally, and dangle my soft, unerect goods at them all.
After a hearty laugh, I turned around, went back inside, and attempted to do a couple of more shots. After my MP friend insisted I probably had enough, I somehow convinced him that I needed one more...I threw it back, he said something along the lines of "there. Happy?" and according to him, I nodded, got down, laid on my stomach, and passed out...halfway in the kitchen, and halfway in the living room.
Kilt Man Down.
Some time passed before my other good friend came out with the available chick. Apparently the "threesome idea" was sparking a little bit of drama in the bedroom, so she was taking a break or something. They laughed as I laid unconcious on the ground, and Johnny, being the good friend that he is, thought I was faking it...so it seemed perfectly reasonable in his inebriated state to test this by pissing on my back. Hair and shirt now soaked...I didn't budge. They laughed hysterically while Johnny puts his shit away, until I roll over on my side, throw up black vomit and roll back over on top of it, face down. (The vomit was probably black from the Guinness and Jaeger mixture, although I'm still not entirely sure why.)
Johnny and my MP friend drag my ass over to Johnny's bed, as I'm noticeably done for the night. As my MP friend is undoing my boots so I'm more comfortable, I woke up at that moment not knowing where I was in this dark room, feeling two people holding me up, and basically I just went into defense mode and started swinging. The MP friend grabbed my pinky or some shit, and got me in, what he referred to as, a blood-lock. I apparently exclaimed, "OW! Why the fuck does this hurt!?" He advised I calmed down, and I quickly did.
...After moaning for, what they said, was forty five minutes in Johnny's bed, I vomited black puke in the middle of it again. Because shit with Jew, girlfriend, and available chick were escalating after a second attempt at the threesome, Johnny was getting stressed trying to keep the peace. Returning to his room to check up on me, he was understandably pissed.
After dragging me to the living room couch, he began cleaning his bed...the MOMENT he got done cleaning his bed, I vomited on the couch. He drug me to a leather beanbag chair, and begun cleaning the couch...
...this was the only moment of the night AFTER the blackout, that I retained some memory...I vividly remember the texture of the leather beanbag sticking to my face...I couldn't move, I couldn't see, and I could only groan in pain as my body exhaustedly squeezed out more of that hideous black vomit. I tried breathing, and I couldn't...everything was going out, and I couldn't even breath, through my nose. It was at that moment that I thought I was about to die...
...Through my recklessness with drinking at "The Party of Many Incidents", I now have a decent vision as to what my limits are, and are reminded of the consequences of over-doing it, from that horrifying moment on the beanbag chair...people's muffled screams in the background, the almost suffocating leathery mass, and the feeling of utter helplessness and sickness...it was my first time drinking...and the last time I have ever drank that much. It's my goal to keep it that way, so as not to inherit my father's alcoholism, which even HE successfully recovered from.
Thanks for reading all of that.
PHOTOSHOP
