So this story is one to be savored. And I don’t mean that literally. Thank you anonymous person whose identity only I know and will relish knowing for the rest of my life…thank you.
I don’t embarrass easily. In order to make this story work, I need to do this thing in two parts.
Before we begin, I should say that my significant other is embarrassed by this story and therefore I wish to remain anonymous. For his or her sake.
We once moved from one place to another. We stayed with some friends on our way out of town, and the day happened to be a holiday where Americans typically drink. So we drank. And as it turned out, the people that I was with were much less interested in drinking the HUGE bottle of wine we had than I was. So I drank it all.
Then I went to bed. In the middle of the night I got up to go to the bathroom. It was weird because I was in the bathroom before I had any idea why I was going there.
It soon became apparent that I was there in order to vomit profusely. Having never experienced food poisoning or the flu, I was unfamiliar with some of the side effects of violent chunk-blowing. As it turns out, a bowel release is a somewhat common occurrence, and one that I was in no way prepared for.
Yep, my pants were still on.
To make a long story short, there was some extensive clean up and we didn’t leave until 5 PM the next day.
Some time later, we visited some friends in a different city. We went out to a bar where they knew a bartender. Also, our friends were very good at drinking and very encouraging with regards to the drinking of others.
We sat at the bar and drank way too much. I also had such a variety of drinks that I still get nauseous when I think about it. I drank wine, beer, something with milk in it, shots, mixed drinks, etc. Disgusting.
The extravaganza was finished off by me doing three double shots of Jaegermeister in a row. (How am I still alive?)
I immediately went to the bathroom because I wanted to prepare for the inevitable. I went in and forced out as much poop as I could, because I knew vomiting was in my not-too-distant future.
As I left the bathroom area, I had to do an immediate U-turn around a partition to head back toward the bar and my people. This bathroom was in the now-closed restaurant section. I rounded the partition and the resulting spin was enough to send me reeling backward. I tried to catch myself, but all I did was send barstools – that were previously on top of tables – to the floor with me.
Since the alcohol affected my body before it affected my mind, I was fully aware of what had just happened, and all too aware that trying to get up by myself would be futile. So I just lay there and watched the horror on the faces of my other and my friends, as they knew they were about to take responsibility for me.
*PROUD MOMENT ALERT* I did not vomit on the ride home, which was especially important since it wasn’t my vehicle.
I made it into our hotel room somehow. I went to the bathroom to let the vomit out.
And somehow, some way, I still had feces in my bowels. Well, at least before the puking.
I may be the only non-elderly adult in history to poop his or her pants twice. And it’s not fair. I took precaution.
P.S. I do not get drunk anymore. But I have vomited since that day. Rest assured that I did so while sitting on the toilet. If I forget in the future, at least I’ll have another story to submit to this blog.
Coming Soon: An embarrassing story that hits close to home and features…um….meowing.