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Have you ever had the “did I kill someone yesterday?” anxiety only to realize that the worst thing you did over the weekend was have drunken conversations with people who also hardly remember said conversations? Well, that’s kind of what happened to me this weekend. Except we have it all recorded in the form of a podcast.
We recorded an episode of Touching Base (iTunes / SoundCloud) at the SXSW event we hosted this weekend, Saved By The Brunch. It’s Monday morning and I have yet to listen to it yet because, well, I’m scared to. Here it is.
All I had to show for the episode was pair of Mezcalito swim trunks that smelled like it had rum and rosé spilled all over it the day before. And I guess that’s worse than actually killing someone.
Alright, let’s get into this week’s crop of stories which can be found unedited in quotes below.
Started out with a low key Friday night, this guy I’m seeing has to study for his CFA exam and I’m studying for the lsat, so we decided to stay in Friday and study for a bit and got a 15 pack of southern tier to inspire us to focus. About 5 minutes into studying we decide that since we don’t spend much time together we should just drink instead. Cue me nearly blacking out after 3 double IPAs since I didn’t eat more than a salad at 1 pm.
Next morning I went to Long Island to meet my little for brunch, $30 for lobster eggs Benedict (they gave me 3 bennies, God bless this place) and unlimited sangria is a pretty great deal. Ubered to the train, which was cancelled because someone decided to ruin everyone’s day and walk into the tracks so they got hit. Made a friend also waiting for the train so we ubered to a different train line and he paid for the whole thing. Finally get back to guys house in Brooklyn, chugged a beer while changing and ubered to meet my friend to pregame for an excision concert at terminal 5. Thinking I need to catch up since I got there late (even though I had 6 sangrias and a heavy beer) I ordered 2 martinis AND a goose island and was quickly on the verge of blackout. My friend and I split a gram of blow, and after pulling my trigger and doing a bump I start to feel somewhat like a person again.
We head to the show where I befriend a 19 year old (I’m 23) and we proceed to make out all over the place like freshmen at their first frat party. Befriended another guy who let me into his VIP but he started grinding on me so I ran away. My friend found a huge bag of blow (I know idk what I was thinking doing found drugs but it is what it is) and I made ANOTHER friend with some kid who was laying on a couch rolling balls. He also gave me blow so at this point I’m yipped and feeling extra social. My friends leave early so I stay until the show is over and take a yellow cab (am I rich? I’m not I don’t understand why drunk me loves to be chauffeured everywhere when I have an unlimited metro card) to Brooklyn to meet up with some friends from school.
I get there, and turns out my friend forgot to mention they’re outing is actually a birthday party for the boyfriend of a girl who absolutely despises me (I banged a guy she was hooking up with/in love with almost a year after she graduated and it’s been a year since then so she should get over it) so I’m trying to hang with my friends while simultaneously avoid her death stares. Someone at this bar starts grinding on me and I turn around and he says “wait hold on I didn’t see your face yet” ??????????? Apparently my friends were the prettiest people in there because guys hitting on us got too excessive and frankly creepy so we left and try to head to another bar only to realize it’s 345 am and everywhere is closing. I then walked to guy I’m seeing’s apt and woke him up to let me in. Binge watched big little lies all day Sunday and started westworld, then realized that it was almost 9 pm so he coerced me into staying over again and my dad sent me some passive aggressive texts and my mom told me she doesn’t want any children out of wedlock. Throughout the entire weekend my ex boyfriend who lives in Australia has been professing his love to me and is now saying he’s going to move here to be with me since he doesn’t like the idea of me with anyone else. Currently at work in jeans and rain boots (weather was terrible Friday) since I didn’t go home and have done absolutely nothing today except feel remorse for all my questionable decisions and count down the time until 5 pm.
Also checked my bank account and spent $250 on Saturday alone and have to go to brunch this coming Saturday for one of my best friends birthdays. SOS.
You know, I was feeling okay. I wasn’t feeling *great*, but I was feeling good enough to get through the morning. Then I read “after pulling my trigger and doing a bump I start to feel somewhat like a person again,” and my entire body was — as the kids on Twitter are saying — shooketh to the core. I’ve never thrown up from being hungover before, but I almost just booted all over my keyboard.
These young bucks shaking off a hangover have no idea what real scaries are. I’ve got a 102 temperature from a blazing sinus infection. My 4 year old son is getting ear tubes tomorrow. My 1 year old son has the same nasty bug I have and is up every couple of hours screaming through the night and my 3 year old daughter keeps telling me about God’s love.
The back room is full of trash from a birthday party this weekend with the in-laws. Work is crushing me with the end of the quarter coming and my wife is heading out of town for a four day trip with her college friends on Thursday.
I’d take an extreme combo physical and moral hangover any day over the week ahead of me.
Legitimately could not be more opposite than the story above. This is just a guy looking for any edge he can get. Maybe this is why that first girl’s mom told her she didn’t want her having kids out of wedlock.
It was Saturday evening and I had a full schedule starting with dinner at 7pm to a very close friend. I would like to state that this friend is a long time childhood friend. She is an amazing person but just a friend. I meet said friend for what should be a quiet dinner and possibly one bottle of sake. I’m really cool with one of the sushi chefs and he always hooks it up with an extra bottle when I’m around. This particular evening he decided to provide me an additional 7 bottles no charge to my one bottle purchase. We pound back every drop of sake on that table taking no prisoners. We pay, dip out and start to aggressively make out in the middle of the parking lot right in front of the restaurant.
Suddenly it clicks in my brain that I have a girl I’m seeing making her way to my home in exactly thirty minutes. So I say my good byes and wait for my Uber. Luckily my apartment was very close to the restaurant and I made it home just in time. Meet homegirl at the lobby, who brought a bottle of wine with her. Go straight up to the apartment. We turn on Netlfix and proceed to drink and make out. Unfortunately can’t close the deal this evening but had plans for a house party soon as she left. Once the movie is over one quick kiss and she’s on her way. I sit on my couch for a second and suddenly it hits me all at once. I go from alright to browning out. There’s no coming back I pick up my phone to make a call and that’s all I remember.
I wake up at 5am to several missed calls, a handful of text messages and find my roommate doing laundry. We don’t say a word to each other just make eye contact and walk our separate ways. Needless to say I spent the rest of the day in bed because I’m not 19 anymore.
Man, I need a sushi hookup like your sushi hookup. Extra bottles of sake just for showing up? I’m in. I’ve gone on record saying that the sake buzz is a top-three buzz next to nice champagne and campari-sodas. I know that sounds extra as hell, but I’m not taking it back.
Been a fan for a while but I never thought I’d have a story. Spent the day helping my family out set up a craft fair and after that was done I headed out to IKEA. Picked up some Bed slats for our bed and I wanted to pick up some spoons but I was going to come back because it was two separate web orders. Went to the office to request some PTO for a research study I’m doing Wednesday. Go kill some time driving a V6 Mustang and I head back to IKEA to pick up the spoons. I’m driving down the tollway and I get to the tollbooth and I realize I really have to take a piss. I’m hoping I can hold it until I can get into the shopping center with IKEA. No such luck. I pull into the IKEA parking lot and immediately piss myself. My seat Is soaked and thank goodness for all weather floor mats. So I’m not sure what to do so I told scrambling to the backseat hoping I still have some gym shorts. No such luck. I end up deciding I’m going to wipe down the outside of my underwear with the detailing rag I keep in my car trunk and I decided that I’m going to go into IKEA with my winter jacket on and underwear. Thank goodness I was doing an online pick up. Scaries are kicking in as I hightailed it out of there.
Hahahaha. I don’t know why but this made me smile. Probably because I’m used to reading stories about people drunkenly pissing themselves and this dude did it sober. There are few ways to make going to IKEA worse than it already is, and one of those ways is definitely pissing yourself en route.
So me and twelve of my high school friends were going to a fundraiser for our high school. My friend who moved back to the area had a little pregame before the thing which included brunch drinks (mimosas and shit). After downing about three mimosas each we Uber to fundraiser with our dates who were all good friends from high school. Keep in mind most of us are single.
We go to fundraiser and drank a bit more at an open bar. Stuck to beer for most of event. Then one of the girls we were with told us about some college party happening at her neighbors house (she lives at home still, so she still lives nearby). I’m 26 so I’m down for something to bring me back to my college days. We get there and it’s a total shit show. Me and most of my friend just start downing straight shots of svedka and other vodka, then chasing it with nattys and bud. We each take like 10 shots each. I immediately start to feel it and just fucking go wild. I played at least 8 rounds of beer pong and losing all of them with one of my friends. Both of us are beyond shitfaced when two of the college chicks come up to me and my friend. They just start grinding on us to fuckin Gods plan. I just say fuck it and begin making out with one of the girls and then proceed to go into a room and hook up with her. Must’ve been in room for at least an hour when some drunk college guy comes in and vomits all over my clothes. I’m in nice ass shit too bc of the fundraiser. I get pissed and punch him straight in the face. He falls down and everything goes silent. I come out of room and the said neighbor kicks me and three of my friends out. I was supposed to go back to parents but I was way to drunk to do so.
We start walking to pregame friends house. But no one knows where the hell we r going bc we r so gone. His house is about a mile away but it was like 45 degrees and my hometown is on the water. We r about a quarter mile away when we hear a splash. One of my fucking drunk friends fall in and we begin to freak out. I some joe realize what’s going on so I grab a stick and tell him to grab it. We eventually pull him out and make it back to said friends house. We get in and crash on the floor of his living room. Wake up the next day at 2 pm. Everyone is still sleeping. I wake up and realize I’m still covered in some drunk dudes puke. I decide to try and take a shower. I get in shower, slip and hit my eye on the faucet. I look in mirror to see that I have a nice shiner on my right eye. Get out of shower and call parents to drive me home. Talk to friends later to find out that friend who fell in water has pneumonia now. Saturday scaries were at an all time high.
Part of me died inside when I read the sentence “no one knows where the hell we r going bc we r so gone.” This is what you get for partying like sorority girls at the age of 26. Who does shots of Svedka anymore?
Currently writing this story mid flight because this turbulance and the hangover I’m nursing is the cherry on top for this week of debauchery.
This past week I took some well deserved PTO and headed to South Florida for my sister’s wedding and some fishing. Started with some airport drinking in which a TGI Friday’s waitress was putting the moves on me, so I got a good confidence boost. Got to Miami with no major issues and wedding on Saturday is when everything started to spin out of control.
Wedding comes by and we get early to take family pictures so I started to scout the field for some talent. Beer, wine and sake was the menu offered at the open bar so we decided sake bombs was the way to go (or a good idea for some reason). Alcohol flowing and putting my sweet dance moves to work and I meet a bombshell. We take a few drinks, dance to a few songs, and I get pulled aside to take part on some smoking with my siblings and my new brother in law (bonding purposes of course). I lose the girl, but the afterparty rolls on to a South beach club. We get treated to another open bar and I get back on the dance floor. Some shots later and my drunk ass hits it off with another smokeshow of a girl and after a sloppy make out session, witnessed by some of my fam members, we take off for a friends apartment to keep the party going.
No alcohol is sold at this late hours, but somehow one of the dudes we’re with mentions he can get free booze at Señor Frogs. Dude gets out of the uber and comes back with a bottle of tequila and a 12 pack. We proceed to keep drinking until I’m completely trashed so I suggest to the girl Im with we should take off. I black out while waiting for the uber and woke up butt naked to one of the top 5 hangovers I’ve ever had. We try to hook up and sleep the hangover off. Woke up again at noon to missed calls from my brother asking my whereabouts and if I was planning on making it to the family brunch. I decline and try to go back to sleep. Finally get myself to be useful enough to get a ride back to my hotel. Facing my family’s questions, especially my 10 year old naphew asking where I’ve been while trying not to throw up will definitely hunt me for a while. Oh btw, the girl is one of my sister’s best friends and the whole fam knows her pretty well.
Drank my liver to death the rest of the week with my brother at some pretty upscale (read out of my league) parties for a fishing tournament; had a pretty subpar fishing day on Tuesday which made us drink even more, and dont even want to look at the credit card bill I have coming from my baller alter ego showing off by paying a hefty bar tab when we met some UF girls at the Keys (Go Gators!?).
Poor life choices, the shakes, and the amount of work waiting for me tomorrow will definitely be the death of me (if the plane doesn’t go down of course). Scaries hitting an all time high and hopefully I didn’t traumatized my naphew for life.
Ha! Sounds like you need a vacation to recover from your vacation, amirite? Ha! Okay, enough of the 45-year-old dad jokes. This is why you avoid Florida at all costs.
First wedding weekend of 2018 kicked off Friday morning with an email from Southwest saying our original flight was delayed, which would us to miss our connection. At this point, we have roughly 15 minutes to get ready and race to the airport to make it in time for a much earlier flight. Make it through TSA in 3 minutes (thanks precheck) and walk up to the gate right as they start boarding.
All is well and we eventually make it to KC and beeline to the world’s best BBQ – Joe’s KC. Shortly after, check in to the hotel, grab the club lounge free drinks, then hit the town with another PGPer. Knowing full well we have to leave the hotel by 9 the next morning we decide to go all out and hit Vegas bomb after Vegas bomb and even bought a bottle of champagne to piss off everyone else. We also unsuccessfully tried to get our friend laid.
Wake up Saturday feeling like trash. Grab a quick breakfast and head out to pick up our other friends heading to the wedding. Finally make our destination, immediately start pounding beers in the suite 3 hours before the service starts. Attend said service with a good buzz. Get free hotel drinks before the open bar because why not.
Here’s where it all goes downhill. My girlfriend decided she wanted to see how fast she could drink vodka sodas and next thing you know I’m wondering where she went because I kept trying to slow her down. She’d gone back to the room and chugged 3/4 of the prosecco we had gotten earlier. There was also a mysterious substance in one of the paper coffee cups– I later found out she had definitely stood at the mini bar puking into a cup while continuing to pour more wine into another cup.
The rest of the night went off without a hitch, even got room service chicken tendies. We woke up this morning, both naked, not entirely sure if sexual relations were had. Her hip is weirdly sore though so it’s plausible some weird shit went down. We’ve drove 3.5 hours today. Had a couple airport beers, and sitting on a plane getting home at 1:15am. Thankful for PTO days. Not thankful for this hangover.
Your favorite trash couple,
[redacted] and [redacted]
Ugh, I know it’s only 8:15 a.m. my time but those room service chicken tendies sound phenomenal. May need to make my way to a fried chicken joint for lunch today despite the fact that I ate my weight in shitty food all weekend.
Also, I can’t disclose which stories these two have submitted before, but they’ve done some very good work throughout this series. They’re not wrong when they say they’re my favorite trash Peej couple.
Been a fan of the content for a while but only recently became a regular reader of the weekend stories and have been digging through the archives the past few Sundays to make myself feel better. Also, full disclaimer, a bit buzzed on some Sauvignon Blanc as I send you this entry. Have a story from about a year ago to pass along.
It’s winter, early 2017. My husband is out of town skiing for the weekend so I have the house to myself and am trying to decide whether it will be the move to stay in and relax solo or make some going out plans that he wouldn’t be into if he were home. Being the responsible adult that I am, I opt for the latter and make plans to hit the local strip club, having been encouraged to do so by a stripper friend of mine who works there. To provide some context, for whatever reason, the main strip club in my local area is somewhat of a common watering hole for many people in my social circle to the point that I have been there on numerous occasions with various co-workers, including both male and female partners at my firm and various support staff such as my own secretary following the holiday party this past year. The place is a vibe. I haven’t been to that many different strip clubs in my life so I don’t know how it stacks up against other establishments generally, but I would say it’s big in size, has a lot of girls working on a weekend night, and gets crowded enough that it’s a good time to just drink and hang out if you like hip hop music.
In any case, I roll to the club on a Friday night to hang out with stripper friend. General consensus is that we will be planning to drink a lot. I had also put down a couple of glasses of wine while cooking myself a nice healthy chicken dinner, since I am clearly all about health and wellness. Once I get to the club around 9:00 or so, stripper and I are both sucking down vodka mixed drinks and intermittently taking “watermelon bombs,” which is something the stripper taught me about as she is significantly younger and knows about the trendy shots these days. By 11:00 or 11:30, I am in a very drunk state though not blacked out and not acting like a complete idiot. I do expressly recall a flawless rap performance of “Mo Money, Mo Problems” that I spit in the midst of a lap dance. Good, clean fun.
Time flies by as it does when one drinks this much and next thing I know it is club closing time of 2:00 am. I can’t entirely recall what occurred next as it relates to issues getting a ride home, but I believe I made multiple attempts to call an Uber and either could not get someone close enough that I was willing to wait for or else there was an issue with my phone or something. So I resort to walking out to the club lobby, and I’m not sure what my plan is at this point. But, in the club lobby at close time, you’ll find multiple club bouncers and various dancers waiting for rides or friends or whatever, so there is a crowd. Additionally, the club has a deal with the local police where the cops always have a car and a couple dudes on hand outside at the end of the night to make sure nobody is getting in fights and girls aren’t in danger going back to their cars, etc. Again, still unsure what my deal was with just calling an Uber as would have been the normal thing to do, but somehow I encounter a young man who claims to be a “driver,” who offers to drive me home. I am coherent enough to be hesitant about this situation, but am assured by one of the police officers on duty that this purported “driver” is basically a solo taxi driver who frequently drives the dancers home at the end of the night if needed. Apparently, this is enough info for me to agree to a ride from this person.
I hop in the back of fake taxi driver’s car and a random middle aged man, who also needs a ride, takes the front seat. We both relay to the driver where we need to go. Middle aged man is a truck driver who needs to be returned to his truck. Based on where I live, all decide the truck drop-off will be the first stop. Truck driver dude is clearly wasted and I am hoping he plans to sleep in his truck when he gets dropped off and will not be driving truck on the interstate. We weave through various local roads for a while, with the truck driver insisting that his truck is in a parking lot just down the road. After about 20-30 minutes of this, he remembers that his truck is actually at a truck stop off of the highway. A TRUCK STOP IN NEW JERSEY. I LIVE IN PENNSYLVANIA (AND THE CLUB IS IN PENNSYLVANIA). Long story short, 30 minutes later, we are at a truck stop in New Jersey, dropping this incoherent dude off at his truck, which it took him about a half hour to recall was parked in a different state than where he was. The whole ride there, I am bumming cigarettes from fake taxi driver. I do not smoke cigarettes. I am also sending periodic messages to my girl friend text group, but all of the girls are asleep and not out being weirdos crossing state lines like I am.
At this point, I am thankful that truck driver is out of the car, because I figure at least I can’t be double teamed and, if anyone was going to look to rape or attack me, it was probably truck driver and not taxi driver. I move up into the front seat of the car for taxi driver to drive me home. I continue to bum cigarettes from him. He is a scrawny young black man who appears to be in his mid to late 20s and slightly younger than me. The New Jersey truck stop is about 45 minutes from my house. We crank up some early 2000s hip hop and R&B and rip cigs the whole way home. Anticlimactic but happy ending as I am dropped off safely. I guess all I really have to say at this point is, I wish I knew this dude’s name and number because I would not mind hitting him up if in need at the end of a late night. If you are reading this now, whoever you are, please contact me.
I could truly not be more confused as to why this strip club is the local hangout for people responsible enough to have their own staff and secretaries. Like, I blacked out reading the rest of this story because I’m so confused as to how this strip club became a staple in this random city.
I’m also somewhat revolted by the fact that this driver let her smoke cigarettes in the car he uses to make money. I was once the sober driver for some friends who smoked cigarettes in the back seat of my 1995 Subaru Legacy Wagon and it smelled like them for a good month after.
I knew this day would come it was just a question of when this day would be, well today is that day.
This all started on Tuesday night when I hit a Devils game with some high school friends. Get to the game and the Devils score in like the first five minutes, I forget my phone is in my lap, stand up and launch my phone into a gap in between the seats and underneath the bleachers. Get it back after the game and the screen is messed up so everything looks like its double. Go back to Manhattan and stay out till 3am.
Wednesday the Big East tournament started so all my college friends get into town Wednesday afternoon and proceed to start drinking around 4. Bar hopped around Times Square kept everything pretty tame nothing crazy.
Thursday my school played at noon so I get into work early to get some stuff done for dipping out so I can get to the Garden in time. Game goes great we win easily and I’m pretty drunk. I had planned to go back to work but after realizing how drunk I am realize thats probably not a good choice so stay to watch the next game until I get an email asking me to complete something by end of day so Ih ave to go back to work hammered for the next two hours. Thursday night meet up with my friends and take two addys. My ex is at the bar and things don’t go well so I proceed to get trashed, spend $170, and black out.
Friday wake up still drunk and have to get to work. By the time I get there the hangover is in full effect and its not good. Hide in a conference room all day and dip out early to go to the bar to meet up with my friends before the game. This game goes not as well as we blew a huge lead and lost so as you can guess get trashed this night to forget the pain. My friend was staying with me and she gets even worse than me, pukes on me in the cab, gets back to my apartment and pukes for about an hour before passing out on my bathroom floor all night.
Saturday have a birthday brunch we have to go to. Show up and take full advantage of the bottomless mimosas. Get to the next bar to keep the party going. Girl from LA pulls out an edible and passes it around. I take a bit and between the mimosas, edible, and coke I’m on a whole different level. Get back to my apartment and pass out before I get ready to go back out to meet my friends. Get out and realize I am in no shape to be there so I call it a night and get home.
I just checked by bank account, realized I lost my ID, and debit card, and I have come to the realization that I am indeed a trash human being. I have a soccer game tonight and this work week is going to be hell. Need all the help I can get.
Man, this dude loves sports and beer. I’m imagining him wearing a New Jersey Devils dad cap with a Barbour jacket while drinking hella IPAs and talking to his buddies about how sick their summer house in the Hampies will be this summer. Love it.
I got a little too self indulgent at the pool bar and had more dark and stormies than I should. I ended up getting hungover around 1 am and the panic kept me up until 7am. Fraj on the flight home eased the pain a tad, though.
I thought I may have written this email to myself until I read the “flight home” part. Not to brag, but your boy drank hella Dark & Stormies at Saved By The Brunch this weekend. Enough to make me put on sunglasses for the duration of the day because I knew my eyes were cashed. Here’s proof.
Behind those shades are red eyes with bags underneath them. Not great.
So this story actually happened on a Sunday- Monday, which makes it slightly more aggressive.
Sunday night I attended a networking reception with a handful of college friends who I hadn’t seen in awhile. This is an open bar situation and people are not giving a shit that it’s a Sunday night. I’m about 3 glasses of merlot into the night when my good friend Max shows up. I met Max cause I used to hook up with his close friend about 2 years ago who has since moved away. Now we hang out at least once per week, share a group of friends and normally wing for each other at bars/ give each other dating advice. Eventually it hits midnight and we realize we should probably tone things down. Both of us had failed to give/ get phone numbers from our respective prospects that night, and since he lives near the venue we decided to go back to his place and hang out. Now I’m usually not this naive, but as he pulled up The Great British Baking Show I had no idea that as soon as the show started he would essentially grab me, pull me on top of him, and start making out with me but that is what happened. One thing led to another and we ended up having sex on his couch to GBB. After passing out for an hour or two I decided this was too much to deal with on a Monday morning so I called an uber and peaced out of there, to be dealt with at another time.
The next morning (Monday) I wake up to a random DM sent at 7:15am from a guy, Andrew, who’s in town for a business conference asking if I wanted to meet up that night. I figured, why not. I had friends going out around where he’d be so I might as well meet up with him after. Understandably I am dying all day at work but looking forward to keeping things rolling. When I get to the bar we picked, I find out that there’s a fundraiser going on for some random congressperson. With me in a formal dress and heels and Andrew looking the part in a suit, we blend right in and decide to crash the event (yes, another open bar). After a couple rounds of cocktails he invites me back to his hotel. We uber to one of the nicest hotels in town and I’m feeling like a post-makeover pretty lady at this point. After fooling around for a bit I learn that he’s from Chicago where I’m going to be at a business conference in 3 weeks. I asked if he wanted to meet up again and he suddenly gets nervous and tells me that Chicago would be difficult since he “sort of has someone back home” but that he’d be back in New York soon and would hit me up. Now this statement is vague enough that for all I know, this dude is married and I just participated in his Don Draper-esque affair. Since I have no idea what his last name is or where he works I pretty much have no way of verifying any of this info and will most likely never talk to him again.
Tl; dr I hooked up with a close friend and a random (possibly married) dude who slid into my DMs. I should probably avoid open bars on school nights.
If my legacy proves to be sharing these reckless stories with the world and influencing people to watch Frasier and The Great British Baking Show, I’ll die a happy man. Congrats on the affair, though.
This weekend was a doozy. I’m on the east coast and couldn’t make it to saved by the brunch on Saturday, but my friends and I went to a brunch festival with unlimited food and drinks which was still awesome. There was a big stage with a live band and a DJ so everyone was going wild dancing.
Afterwards, we ubered to one of our favorite sports bars. We got some food and more drinks while figuring out our game plan for the night. I was browned out already at around 7pm, and that’s when we made the insane decision to drive 4 hours to Savannah, GA for the night. The 5 of us piled in to an old Chevy spark and left straight from the bar and headed there. No change of clothes or tooth brush or phone chargers and we’d worry about a hotel on the way down. At one point we stopped at a gas station on the way down and shot gunned beers in the parking lot.
We booked a place to stay with about an hour left of the drive, but when we got there, there was a double booking situation so we technically didn’t have a room. It was also an insanely expensive hotel. Luckily, we told our friend to meet us, and I won’t say who he is but let’s just say his dad is of great importance to the city and he pulled a “do you know who my father is?” to the hotel staff. And it worked because the manager came and personally put new sheets in our room.
We started shotgunning more beers and then we walked to river street. I now only remember a couple flashes from the night. A mechanical bull was involved. Shots of Jameson and several Vegas bombs. Me sprinting out of bar to puke & rally in an alley way. I think our Savannah friend who met us drove me home and I remember him getting mad at me for saying something so hopefully I didn’t do anything too reckless. Next thing I know, it’s 6:30 am and I wake up while sitting on the toilet in the hotel room with my pants around my ankles. Apparently I’d wandered through the hotel during the morning and was just standing at our door without a key for an hour or two. I was still drunk the next day, which made the 4 hour drive home in the smallest car ever made semi-bearable. I threw up on the interstate and again at 9pm last night. It’s now 5am Monday morning, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I pass away at work today. I will be bringing my 64 oz. yeti rambler, full of water, that i purchased with promo code “THICC” on ManOutfitters.com so that I can rehydrate. Can’t wait to tell my coworkers just how much this harmless brunch festival escalated.
I know a thing or two about harmless brunch festivals escalating. Almost as much as I know about using promo code ‘THICC’ on Man Outfitters.