Inspired by this drunk guy at Coachella last week, I am going to recount some of my drunkest moments. Obviously, this excludes the times I’ve blacked out (or as I like to say, traveled through time).
1. Drinking in the name of science: 2005
When I was in college, I wrote for this publication called the Fish Rap Live! It was UC Santa Cruz’s “alternative humor” newspaper, and as an overeager freshman, I was desperate to prove myself as a worthy contributor. Hence, one of my very first articles was titled, “On Pace To Drink For A Week,” where I set out to have an alcohol-only diet and then chart the results. Truth be told, I only lasted through lunch on Day One before I vomited in my laundry basket and gave up. I fabricated the rest of the article and was too embarrassed to admit it until right now â€“ which in retrospect is sort of retarded because my editor had to have known I was lying. Oh well.
2. Halloween in Isla Vista: 2007
For those of you who don’t know, UC Santa Barbara’s Isla Vista doubles as UCSB student housing and a giant 24/7 shit show full of herpes, Natty Ice, and barbecues. Halloween in particular is especially insane. On this night, I literally lost my pants. I don’t know where or how, but I have to assume it happened while I was pissing in the middle of the street in front of a cop, sobbing hysterically. But I didn’t puke that night, so good for me.
3. Papa Roach at the Ventura County Fair: 2007
My friend Kristy and I thought it would be a really great idea to sneak alcohol into the fair and see a shitty band play. And it probably would have been if we hadn’t gotten so drunk that we had to be carried out of the mosh pit. I wound up trapped under a picnic table, covered in mustard from a corn dog that I had dropped in the dirt and wiped off on myself so I could still eat it. This was a bad idea for a number of reasons, the primary one being that I puked up said corn dog all over my shoes on the bus ride home.
4. Tequila on Kennan Street: 2008
Senior year of college, my friend Claire and I lived together in this cheap apartment in a weird stretch of Santa Cruz. One night we bought a fifth of tequila from Trader Joe’s, and while I can’t remember what brand it was, I’m pretty sure it came in a plastic bottle and had a skull on it. In my last moments of lucidity, we were taking shots with hunks of apple instead of lime and I was making quesadillas. Cut to the next morning: my room was COVERED in vomit. I hit everything: my bed (sheets, comforter, and mattress), my wall, my books and notes, clothes hanging up in my closet, and my boyfriend. I also had a bad burn on my hand, which I sort of remember getting the night before by putting my entire palm down in the quesadilla pan to see if it was still hot; and according to all the blisters, I had presumably left it there for several seconds. I had also called my mom.
Now that I’ve officially exposed too much of myself on the Internet, it’s your turn. What are your favorite drunk stories?
photo from Voodoo Village