Skuzzle wrote:

How did you end up on that train anyway? And other interesting questions... Hey, Jim, Noreen - we shoulda left Joel on the train for shits and grins... heh-heh!

Once upon a time, I moved to SF and met my wonderful friend Allen. Wonderful you ask? Well because he gives the kickest ass parties I've ever been to (with the possible exception of my friend Lisa's parties, but I digress). And also because I live only 2 blocks away - suitable crawling distance.

One such party occurred early in the spring of last year. Allen's whim dictated that we convene at chez Gunn and Tracy and consume mass quantities of alcohol and other treats ('kind' for those who partake).

I'll note here that at the previous party I kind of started a small tradition: Allen always provides a keg (or two) of Sierra, but I decided to bring my *own* bottle of tequilla. It was such a popular idea that at this party, there were no less than *6* bottles of tequilla in addition to the keg.

So, following suit, I brought my own bottle of tequila again, along with my cousin Don and a bag of limes. Since at the last party everyone had wanted a shot, and so (being in friendly SF) I ended up having to share most of my bottle, THIS time I was determined not to share at all. And apparantly that's just what I did.

I was informed that for the first half of the bottle, the only person I allowed to share with me was my cousin Don. I don't remember what happened to the rest of the bottle, but I do remember sitting in a small circle and seeing "some" of that golden liquid left at the bottom of the bottle and swigging the remaining contents.

(Note: Some people were sitting and watching us there in that little circle and one woman wisely noted that "they're about to learn a lesson about tequilla that we learned long ago" - but hey, Magic (her name, I kid you not), is one cool chick and I think it was said out of affection - DB to DB.)

Getting back. Some time after I finished whatever bottle it was in front of me, the second keg arrived. Cousin Don suggested we go and grab some more beer. No need to convince me, so we walked into the kitchen to continue our imbibing.

The next thing I remember I was waking up, lying face down on Allen's featherbed, and feeling like I was gonna puke. I kinda thought that it was uncool to puke on his featherbed, but I really couldn't rationalize getting up at that point, so I convinced myself I'd clean it later, said, "I'm sorry" to no one in particular, and spit up some loose, tomatoey looking chunks. Actually, I was surprised at how little there was, but then I remembered that hadn't eaten all day and only nibbled on a few snacks at the party (chips and salsa, which accounted for the color and texture).

My friends noticed my movement and huddled around me - it was like there was this ring of heads around my head and I couldn't look up or breathe too well and I told them to go away, but they kept teasing me about food until I puked again. I said, "I'm sorry" again, and Allen said, "don't worry, we've all been there." What a cool dude.

My friend Tom later noted that I kept saying, "my head hurts, Tom, will it ever stop?"

I laid my head back down (of course in the puke) and tried to sleep. They kindly/jokingly put a little bowl by my head. Ah, haha. Very funny and then I was out again.

I woke early the next morning, still in the puke. Allen was passed out on the couch in a twisted shape with his arm dangling onto the floor. Across from me was my friend Chris, curled up into a ball on the floor. He had been in this same position since before I passed out. My cousin was gone. Tracy had just come home from the graveyard shift at Kinkos and I politely excused myself to the bathroom and then left. I'd deal with everything later after that horrible pounding in my head went away.

I stumbled, crawled back to my apt where I passed out on my bed fully clothed for a few hours and was woken up in the afternoon by my loving cat, Mishy, chewing on my eyebrows. What a... fucking annoying thing.

Of course I needed to know details. *Something* had to have happened, but I couldn't remember a damn thing. Quick calls to Don and Allen proved that they too were "sleeping it off" as no one answered. I had to wait til later that night before Don called me back.

Apparantly after we went into the kitchen to reep the fruits of the second keg, I said I felt nausious and puked in the sink. Then Don watched me for a bit as I laid down in Tanya's room for a while as they got the featherbed ready for me. Then they all carried me onto the featherbed and left me there.

Then Allen called and I got more details. All of the above did transpire, except that when they put me in Tanya's room, Allen gave Don strict instructions not to let me puke on Tanya's bed. When he came back 5 min later, I was passed out on my side, a trail of puke on the bed, and Don was passed out draped over my hip - kinda like we both just fell over to the side and I puked as we fell.

Then, several months later, I find out from Tracy (Allen's girlfriend) that after I left, she went to put the featherbed away and, well, there was the puke, but also, I had totally drenched it with pee. Lovely. Good thing this was later and that she could laugh about it. Allen figured he'd spare me this small detail. Thanks Allen!

Well, there it is folks!

-s