Let me begin with a declaration: I had no intentions of getting drunk last night. Really. It was pouring rain and I had my bike with me, so I knew I needed to be decently sober by the end of the night to make it home. And then the best of intentions invariably go awry.
Britton wanted to go dancing, so the plan was to pregame at Erik's apartment, play some Wii, and then head out to Beaumont around 11 or midnight. The choice of location was notable, because it had been almost exactly a year since the last time we tried to go to Beaumont. That night ended with me and Britton pitching Haley head-first into a cab, an act that forever cemented our friendship and provided us with ample fodder for future teasing.
This time around, the goal was to actually make it inside Beaumont. That part was successfully accomplished. Alas, I cannot remember anything else that happened.
I realize this is a popular occurrence in some circles in college, but I have never had the pleasure of waking up on a bathroom floor. Until this morning. I rolled over, and my arm banged against a cold, porcelain surface, otherwise known as a toilet. Much to my dismay, I arose with the realization that I had passed out on Erik's bathroom floor. Luckily, there is a nice, cushiony rug in there, so it was fairly comfortable. It was 7:45 am, and I felt pretty chipper, with nary a trace of a hangover.
Next, I started checking my phone. No received or sent calls, so it looked like I hadn't made any egregious drunk dials. So far, so good. Then, I checked my text message inbox and the warning flags began popping up. From Chris: "I'm sorry you thought I was being weird..." Erm, what on earth happened last night? From Rob, the message was "Or not. Not the least bit offended or passive aggressive. (clearly kidding)" This was obviously in response to something...oy veh, if only I knew what. Checking my outbox, it appeared that I had texted Rob with directions: "We are at Beaumont right now at Halsted and Armitage. Come by for 100 percent finance AE presence?" Can I at least pat myself on the back for sending a perfectly spelled and grammatically correct text message while blacked out? By the way, the trip home was miserable because it was pouring rain and I didn't have an umbrella or a jacket of any sort. Yes, I was That Girl.
After my first black out, I swore I'd never drink to that point of intoxication again, but I guess I need to be more careful. From what I can recall, I only had 3 drinks last night (2 glasses of wine and a cranberry & vodka), so I'm not sure what went wrong. We weren't playing any drinking games either (to the best of my knowledge), so I don't think I was drinking particularly quickly.
There is a bit of a bruise forming on my arm. Erik mentioned something about me falling off the dance floor, so maybe that's the cause. What can I say? Sometimes, really great dance moves require taking some risks.
EDIT: Chris has informed me that he was the one who sent out the text message with directions. Damn, and I was so proud of myself too.
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Haha, I should have just let you have your false belief of your drunken text message eloquence... The bruise on your arm was probably from me trying to prevent you from falling over, as you could barely stand on your own. Either that of you mouthed off, causing me to remedy the situation with the back of my hand - ofter the case.
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