Jameson, Threesomes, And Medical Bills: The Worst Stories From This Weekend

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With an open-bar wedding hangover still at the forefront of my mind and no attention span to go all in on a romantic comedy, I scrolled my Instagram feed endlessly until I saw the news I didn’t want to see: a dog I followed on Instagram died yesterday. How I became attached with this dog is beyond me. He had a modest following – nothing major. Maybe I was just feeling the Sunday Scaries a little too much. Maybe I became scared of what would happen when my pup’s day would come. Maybe I just needed a good cry. Who knows. Luckily, I then checked my email and saw a dozen or so brutal weekend stories.

So what I’m saying to all of you is this: thank you.

As always, we break some of the following stories down on Touching Base (subscribe on iTunes and SoundCloud). All the episodes can be found below. Proceed with caution.

Alright, let’s get into this weekend’s crop of stories which can be found unedited in blockquotes below.

I am currently an undergrad studying abroad in Vienna, Austria but I am an avid reader of PGP and relate (sadly) very hard to a lot of the weekends on here.

So our first weekend here the school decided to host a welcome dinner for all of the exchange students and our Austrian buddies. Being the smart and sane Americans we are my roommate and I decided to pregame to dinner heavily in order to have coherent conversations with women.

Flash forward to the restaurant where we arrive with 3 girls from our school. We quickly learn of a 3 beer for 10 euro deal and obviously take part. I however did not listen and took all 3 beers at the same time to our table where I continue to drink heavily on an empty stomach before having a couple bites of schnitzel and making an ass of myself to some Spanish people.

We then move onto a club nearby where I get separated from our group while I am chatting with a couple Austrian girls in a booth. I buy us all long island ice teas and that is where i completely black out.

According to the girls we went with they found me in the booth telling the everyone these two girls were doctors and generally incoherently yelling. As they take me home they just left me in front of my door where my roommate finds me passed out against the door and drags me into the room where I slept in the hallway on the ground.

I wake up at 6:45 the next day to take a day trip with our orientation group to another city in Austria wearing the same clothes as the night before and completely hammered still. Later in the day I realize I snapped my key in half somehow and can no longer get into our apartment with a phone at 3%. I had to beg my roommate to wait for me to let me into our building and apartment and proceed to have the worst scaries of all time for 3 straight hours.

Somehow, the most egregious part of this entire story was the fact that you got a Long Island Ice Tea. Do people still drink those? Do bartenders in Europe even know how to make those? I feel like it’s the equivalent of going to an Italian pizza place and asking for a side of ranch.

My dad is a guy who is a very upstanding gentleman, successful and overall a pretty swell man. Needless to say, he’s had plenty of disappoints in me. He bought a condo in Florida a few years ago that I’ve yet to visit. Taking time off work is hard to do with other non family obligations (weddings, bachelor parties, etc). This year he wasn’t having that so he bought my ticket. He wanted a family vacation. I made it work with PTO.

Flight is at 6:50am on a Saturday morning. Why he picked that time I have no idea. Had a buddy in town last night and I said I’m only having a few drinks. Had a few IPAs, met up with friend for a recent promotion and Jameson starts flowing.

Woke up 10 mins after my departure and I’m in an airport on standby. Was a straight flight now I have a layover in Chicago that I’m also on standby.

Might be the longest day ever and I’m not guaranteed to even get to my destination, but the disappointment in my dad’s voice gave me the Scaries for a month. Send help.

Realizing you can’t pre-game with “a few IPAs” is like realizing you can’t pre-game by ripping shots of vodka as a 20-year-old anymore. IPAs not only sneak up on you, but they pretty much guarantee you’re going to spend more time than you want to on the toilet the next morning.

And honestly, your dad’s probably jealous you still get to get hammered with very few repurcussions.

Coming to you in a dunkin parking lot before my Sunday shift at work. Nothing says Sunday scaries than serving food to strangers while hungover!

Meant to have a chill night, worked brunch yesterday so was up at like 630am and worked till 5. Ended up going to my best friends dads 60th birthday. Big miss steak. Her mom rented out a dive bar in wonderful north Philadelphia. I’m in my last year of undergrad so the only open bars I’ve ever been to were at fraternity formals and that doesn’t count.

Get to the bar and I’m immediately greeted by shots of Jameson from my friend to do with her whole family. It’s game time at that point. Gave the waiter 20 bucks (who knows why) and he was basically my personal bitch all night and any time my drink was one sip away from being done he was there. Shout out Timmy.

Party goes on whatever. My friend comes running out of the bathroom saying her uncle has a joint that he wants to smoke with us two and her friend from school. So we go outside and split it and narrowly escape the Philadelphia cops who are driving up and down the street.

When we’re all done, myself and my two friends decide to go bar hopping around the city. So since all our phones are dead we decide to walk. My friends heels were hurting her so me being me decided to give her my shoes and end up walking barefoot around Philadelphia. I’ll repeat that for you, ya girl walked BAREFOOT about a half a mile from one bar to the next. I’m disgusting and definitely have glass in my foot.

Get to my favorite bar in the whole city and one of my friends automatically throws up. So we decide to wrap it up. Thankfully by some god send the bus that goes back to my apartment (and one that my pass is already paid for by my dad) is passing us and saves me from myself. 2 minutes into the ride I’m asleep. When we get close to my stop I’m woken up by a nice lady who knew where I was getting off because of a conversation we appearantly had when she got on.

When I’m at my house, my phone turns back on and texts and snapchats from the whole night. Not great. Decided to a text a guy that I’m supposed to go on a date with next week “are you ever gonna hang out with me or will you always be too busy” no idea the motivation behind that but it was probably because he wouldn’t meet me at the bar when he has his MCATs coming up soon. Whatever. 100% sure that date will not be happening now.

Fast forward to this morning with a 6:30 wake up call, that thankfully felt like 7:30 s/o daylight savings time, to go into work at 7:15. Currently on my way to be there from 7:30 this morning until 11pm tonight. Please send thoughts and prayers, don’t know if I’ll make it.

I am absolutely shook my the fact that you spelled “mistake” as “miss steak.” But that’s neither here nor there.

First and foremost, you people need to stop doing shots of Jameson. Second of all, I actually love the text you sent to that guy. I could be in the minority here, but there’s something to be said about a girl being the aggressor in the early stages of courting. If Jameson and her uncle’s weed is what it takes to get you there, good on you. The future is female indeed.

Oh, and then she followed up.

have a HUGE interview for a full time job at 8am in NYC tomorrow meaning I’ll have to leave my house at 5am.

KILL ME

And there’s the death blow.

I’m going to my alma mater next weekend. That is all.

Do I even need to say it anymore?

I am currently writing this waiting for my visiting friends to wake up as I have been too drunk to actually sleep and woke up a full two hours before them.

Anyway, I have been wanting to send in this story for a while but wanted to wait for fear of people recognizing my story. It has been circulated among our friends on multiple occasions.

There is a bar where I live that does raffles on Fridays for people to win a three hour happy hour with all you can drink. My friend won and invited all of our group out to join him. Of course I went, It was all you can drink.

I start at 7 with my regular, which was pretty watered down, I mean the bar has to make money somehow with this type of event. I was told that the back bar was where you could go to get good drinks. So I head over there after my first is gone and I was not disappointed! Fast forward to the final twenty minutes, six rum and cokes down, and I go for my final one. What I was told later was that my drinks were mostly rum and just a splash of coke because this bartender was so good. I could not tell as I was so plastered they just tasted like deliciousness.

I decide to leave with a friend and split an Uber. I type in my address, which is about a ten minute drive from the bar. It is when we start getting on the highway that my drunk ass realizes that I forgot a number in my address and we are headed out to the suburbs instead. What should have been a ten minute, eight buck drive took over 45 minutes and cost $40.

I finally get home, apparently brown out, and come to throwing up. I spend the night trying not to die, get some sleep, and then spend my Saturday and Sunday chugging water like I was in the desert for five weeks.

The worst part, I got a text that Monday saying I had won the raffle too. I get to do this again.

I once had a cab in Louisville drop me off on a suburb street that happened to have the same name as a street much closer to downtown. With my Blackberry at 2% battery and a barely functioning maps app, I walked for two hours until I saw someone that could help point me in the right direction. What I’m saying here is that I feel your pain.

Also, I’d suggest switching from rum and cokes to Mount Gay-sodas. Big sailor drink which gets you credibility, less sugar, and with enough lime, you still get the sweetness you crave.

Hi Will!

So this story is a few months old. I needed some time to distance myself from my actions before I could actually face them… this is a long story, so bear with me. Here we go:

I visited one of my best friends from college for a weekend this summer. The plan was to get in on the bus Friday night, do Boardy Barn (a giant outdoor bar in the Hamptons with $1 beer all day/night, we went for “college student day” when there’s no cover) on Saturday, and take the bus back to DC Sunday evening. Solid plan. Saturday rolls around, and we had our old student IDs ready, fanny packs with essentials (cash, sunscreen, flasks, etc), and had slept like 9 hours the night before in preparation. We were ready (or so we thought).

We get there, and the line is crazy long. We wait about an hour and a half to get in, drinking from our flasks in line so by the time we get in we’re already pretty drunk. Also, keep in mind it’s about 90 degrees with very little shade, and we’re not drinking water.

Once inside, we each order 10 beers (they sell them in sets of five) and get to drinking. My memory is slightly hazy, but there was lots of dancing and beer and stickers. We met these guys (five total) there, and the two of us start hanging with them. Around 6pm we decided to go back to their house with them to eat dinner and keep drinking. We pile into their car (two guys in the trunk, us on laps) and their DD drives us maybe 45 minutes away to their house. At this point, we’re both plastered and have no idea where we are, but the house is nice and they have tons of booze so we stayed. One of their friends is Polish and starts making us pirogies, so we house like 10 each and start playing drinking games with shots. At some point while all this is happening, my friend disappears with one of the guys to go hook up on the front porch, so now it’s just me and the guys. I’m flirting hard with one guy (let’s call him John) and the Polish guy is flirting hard with me.

Anyways, we all rally (my friend included) and walk our drunk asses down to the ferry to Fire Island. I black out maybe 20 minutes after getting to Fire Island only to come to on the last ferry back (somewhere around 3am) freezing to death sitting with John and Polish dude, my friend no where to be seen. I start frantically searching the ferry and find her having sex with the same guy from before in the downstairs section of the ferry, so I leave her to it.

We finally get back to the guys house (again, I’ve never been on Long Island so I have no idea where I am and my friend who lives there is still with this dude, so I realize that we’re probably spending the night here. So John, the Polish guy, and I start drinking more and flirting more, and the whole thing devolves into a threesome in the living room of this random house. I pass out once we’re done, around 5 or 6am, to wake up to my friend screaming at me around 9am that we didn’t tell her parents we weren’t coming home (yeah, we were staying with her parents) and we need to get back ASAP. We panic, grab our shit, and make the guys drive us home. Turns out we were only like, 15 minutes away.

So now it’s Sunday and I have to have the most awkward and deeply, painfully hungover lunch with her parents glaring at us. Then it dawns on me that its both Father’s Day and my dad’s birthday, so I call him to chat while silently drowning in shame. Scaries were high at this point. Finally, its late afternoon and I get on the bus home, fighting the scaries and nausea from my hangover. The bus is miserable, I vomitted twice before we made it to DC around 9pm, and when I did finally get home my scaries were at an all time high.

It’s been a few months since this now, and my scaries still have never been higher. Also, I don’t actually remember the real names of John or the Polish guy, and my friend will never forget walking in on me completely naked passed out on a couch in some random dude’s grandma’s living room. Suffice to say it was not my best weekend.

Hope my scaries are more entertaining to you than they were to me!

I don’t often include stories from long ago, but this seemed like it needed to be in the rotation this week.

As a 30-year-old guy who’s best partying years are behind him, Boardy Barn is right up there on the list of aggressive party situations that I’ve never experienced. It’s right next to The Hunt, Parker House, and New Year’s Eve at Foxy’s in the British Virgin Islands. I wouldn’t anticipate that I’d be having sex on ferries or threesomes with Polish dudes, but hey, big ups to you for making it happen.

Woke up Sunday morning after a night out to find out my car was booted. Paid $75 to get the boot removed. Got home and checked my mail from the weekend. Received a nice $1200 hospital bill from when I had a concussion a few weeks ago. I’ve been hungover all day. Most certainly have had better weekends.

Large bills are a bigger stomach punch than IPA-driven hangovers are. Call them, get on a payment plan to lessen the blow, and stop parking places where your car will get a boot. Proper preparation prevents poor performance.

Started my week witnessing a murder 30 feet from my bedroom window and finished blacked out telling my girlfriend I will not be moving to her. Litty AF. Took a party bus back to my alma mater (bozo move, I know) and got annihilated. I bought a keg for the bus and it is currently MIA. My girlfriend accused me of flirting with a chick and things escalated quickly. Word on the street is she through a piece of pizza atcha boy. Didn’t leave my bed except for the sit down shower. Swinging by braum’s to get a chocolate malt and have a good cry.

Oh no. Not the infamous sit-downshower. ANYTHING but a sit-down shower. That being said, you didn’t follow my advice about the alma mater so you kind of deserve what was coming. At least you’re going to be single soon? I don’t know. Finding a silver lining for some of these stories is always difficult. Enjoy that milkshake, player.

So I’ve got one hell of a story for you. It involves driving drunk, doing shrooms and overall debauchery, all at once.

So the girlfriend, myself, and two others were pregaming for a black tie event while drinking champagne and playing mario kart. It was pretty fun. The end.

You dog. .

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Will

Will (Twitter / Instagram) is the host of The Sunday Scaries Podcast.

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