Thank God It Wasn't Me

So we had a Christmas party at work the other day, something that in my experience usually ends up bad... for me. First of all, I'm a light weight when it comes to drinking, have always been, and this fact didn't seem to become important until that very night. I have had my nights of debauchery and embarassment, many of them with incriminating pictures for all to see.

Like many of us, I have a little switch which seems to stop working after the fourth or fifth shot/beer/cocktail, at which point, it's lights out. I usually wake up somewhere (usually at home,) wondering where I was, what I did, and whom I did it to (it's even worse if I wake up naked.) This usually follows with a period of anxiety and worrying, where I call as many people I remember were there, apologizing about my supposed behavior because, "I drank too much last night," so on and so forth.

I awoke on Sunday with not only a splitting headache, but my pants ripped in the back pocket and the smell of vomit on my shoes and coat. Interestingly enough, nothing of mine was missing, save a few cigarettes and my lighter. I was a little freaked out because I was in New York, where I don't really know or trust anybody, yet I made it to my apartment safe and sound.

Then it started settling in. What did I do? Oh no! When did I blackout? How the fuck did I get home? How did I get my coat? Did I get thrown out?

I also had a sharp pain on my collarbone, but nowhere else, so I wondered if I got in a fight.

Mind you, the times this has happened before, I was always with trusted friends who took care of me, drove me home, and put me in my apartment. No harm, no foul (except for whatever comprimising pictures ended up being taken.) There was one time in particular, during one of my birthdays, where I blacked out and came to at another party... dancing. The stories I heard the following week shocked me, only because I couldn't believe I did all the things people said I did within the time I don't remember.

So, imagine my relief when I went to work and the whole day the only thing I got made fun of were my "freaky dance moves." Whew! Nothing else. And the only picture I saw was of me in a conga line making a funny death-metal face.

However, I did find a pink slip from a hospital... Hmmmm.