The Worst Hungover Job Ever, Botched Bridesmaid Speeches, and Breakups: The Worst Stories From This Weekend

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This is a cautionary tale of rehearsal dinners past. No, I did not get too drunk, but I did drink enough that Saturday stung just a bit too much. There’s just an excitement that comes over you in anticipation for the weekend ahead of you when you walk into the rehearsal dinner and see smiling faces everywhere. One drink goes down, and the rest that follow go down a little smoother.

Was I out of commission Saturday? No, not at all. Did I feel off until about 2 p.m. when I took a nap that almost made me late for the ceremony? Yeah, you could say that.

Just keep a little in the tank. That’s all I’m sayin’.

But before we get to this weekend’s worst stories, I implore you to listen to Episode 002 of The Sunday Scaries Podcast. It’s been scientifically proven that this very 9-minute podcast can cure your Sunday Scaries as well as your case of the Monday Blues. Currently, it resides on our experimental feed — Grandex Labs — but it will be hitting its own feed sooner than later. Hop on the bandwagon now because it’ll be full sooner than later.

And now for the stories that’ll make you feel a bit better about your life. As always, you can send in your own stories to will@grandex.co and they’ll remain completely anonymous. Original stories in quotes below.

I leave for basic training in San Antonio tomorrow. It’s 90 there today and I have no desire to check the humidity index. I also hate running.

Ideal? No. Are all thankful for your service? Yes.

Hey Will. I’m sitting at a brewery in San Diego right now. My flight home was delayed 5 hours. I was on vacation and am trying to get back to San Antonio, TX. I’ve done so much dumb shit drunkenly before but today was the first time I felt I should write you (not drunk scaries are more real) because I spent way too much money this last week, I feel like drinking too much is finally getting to me (I’m 23), I’m now realizing meeting people at a bar is much harder than it used to be and my new flight home won’t land until 3am. Much love to you all, I know this isn’t that bad but my phones almost dead too, keep doing your thing, etc etc. Love the pod. Love the new Sunday Scaries pod. What I missed from last week will get me through the next flight. As will how much alcohol I’m about to injest. Hopefully I don’t have a scarier story to tell when I wake up tomorrow morning. <3

This is just someone whose brain is absolutely scrambled. Tossed salad and scrambled eggs like Frasier talks about.

Not to preach, but this is something that I’ve abided by as of late and it has paid dividends: just take the early flight. If there’s an early flight, take it and get home as soon as possible. Hovering around a city after a vacation is never the move when you could be home in your own bed getting some peace of mind. Furthermore, if there’s a delay, you don’t get into that “holy shit I’m getting home at 3 a.m.” territory. Worst case scenario is, like 11 at night. Yes, it sucks getting up early, but the early flight will be worth it when you’re home watching Killing Eve on demand.

The GF’s best friend came into town and we all got tanked. Over the course of the night I managed to puke out of two (2) lyfts, got in a full-on shouting match with the GF in a grocery store parking lot, and spent thirty-eight (38) dollars at Taco Bell. Currently nursing the hangover and eating leftover Crunchwrap Supremes for dinner tonight. T’s and P’s.

Leftover Crunchwraps? Nah, fam. That’s gonna be a no from me. Throw those the fuck out. I can’t get on my high horse because I had a three-piece from Popeye’s for dinner last night, but you can’t be eating Taco Bell for two meals in one weekend. Death wish.

Dude I was seeing ended things with me because I blacked out and kept mooning people.

I appreciate your brevity. Maybe just stop mooning people when you’re blacked out.

Dear Will,

I am writing you this account currently at 2 P.M. on Sunday when I have just arrived home from my place of work. One might classify my work schedule as unconventional, but put simply it’s just a shit show. I am a flight instructor in Dallas, Texas. I teach people how to fly small aircraft and try not to let them crash the plane in the process. My job is anxiety inducing in and of itself, not to mention the point where we work constantly shifting schedules and usually get half of a day to one full day off a week. (most often a middle weekday).

Weekends are always my busiest days. I typically start around 8 am and have 5-6 flights throughout the day and head home somewhere around 7-9 pm. A responsible adult would choose to stay in on nights like these and get plenty of sleep, and not attempt to control an aircraft extremely hungover. Being that I am a 23 year old finally making decent money enough to upgrade from the shitty beer specials at a local college bar to paying for egregiously overpriced cocktails and craft beers at [insert any douchey uptown dallas bar name] it is safe to say that I do not make the responsible choice. So let’s talk about my weekend in fun..

This weekend was for all intents and purposes supposed to be low key. I had a friend from my hometown stopping by on Friday to hang out and catch up and a fully booked weekend at work, that’s it. So Friday rolls around, I fly till around 8 pm and some of the other instructors at my school are forming a plan to get dinner at Dots in Deep Ellum. This is a busy, but undoubtedly fire scene. Great food, great outdoor area, great vibes. So I tell them I’m in. Go home, shower, get dressed, and start heading towards dinner. By now it’s around 9:30, I haven’t eaten since the morning (reference previously stated schedule talk), and I get a phone call that we’re changing the dinner to an italian restaurant/club in uptown. This isn’t my first choice but I’m just worried about getting food before kitchens start closing. We meet there along with another group of my co-workers college friends who were celebrating a birthday. First sign that this night was going to turn.

(Sidebar: the individual with the birthday shares his name with a renown greek philosopher. Not sure if I hate it or respect the move by the parents, but I digress.)

Drinks start flowing, shots are being ordered and I can see my chances of getting a full 8 hours going right out the window. After dinner we add a couple more to our to group and walk to another overpriced bar too loud to have normal conversation. Midnight quickly approaches and I have a flight beginning in 8 hours. I see an opportunity to make my exit when we’re changing bars again and try to make my move but fell victim to the temptation of an attractive young lady whom was kind enough to buy me drinks when I was insisting on sobriety. It’s 2018 ladies, you can buy men drinks.

Upon arrival of the last bar we get told that one of the guys bought a table for the occasion. This is going to sound like an asshole but the feeling of being let in a club immediately because you have a table and skipping ahead of 30+ standing miserable in line people is like none other. The remainder of the night was spent with strobe lights, sparklers stuck into liquor bottles, and music so loud you can’t hear yourself think. Arrived home 2:30 am. 4 total hours of sleep.

Alarm goes off at 6:30, then again at 6:45, and once more at 6:55. Finally up, ready and make it to work only a couple minutes late with a raging headache and sunglasses on. Lucky me, my first student is relatively new, can’t fly an airplane to save his life, and the winds are bumpy today. 1.5 hours into our flying lesson I made the call to return back to our airport and get on the ground.

Upon exiting the plane I discreetly but promptly made my way to the restroom to see the dinner I had eaten the night before. The next four flights went relatively smoothly as I slowly began returning to a semi-normal state. Mid-afternoon a text message comes through while I’m on one of my flights that a friend from Austin (shouts) is headed up to meet up with a girl and needs a wingman to cover her friend. Normally, I would have passed and made up an excuse because even at only 23 I’m already passed my going hard two nights in a row phase. However, let me not so humble brag that the two ladies we were accompanying are recent former affiliates of a local sports team cheerleading squad. You know, Americas team. I’m still not clear on exactly how my friend swung this. Don’t get me wrong, my friend is a snack and all but his humor is his best quality.

So of course I cave and meet up with my friend around 10 to meet these ladies. Saturday night goes about like the prior with loud bars, poor ability for conversation and far too many people in one bar. Who enjoys going out to these places regularly, truly? I just don’t see the allure. But things were going well. We found an area to have a conversation, two stepped to rap music, played patio games, you know, white people shit. As like the night before I was tempted to keep our night going after the bar closed for some late night pizza and a little cards against humanity. One game turned to two and three… and all the sudden my watch says 4:30 and anxiety strikes like freight train. I have to teach a flight lesson in three and a half hours. Shit. Now, I’m not a complete degenerate, in aviation we have legal drinking limits ( 8 hours bottle to throttle ) so I quit drinking early. Arrived home 5 am. Awoke at 8:30 to a phone call from my office manager asking where I was because my student had been there waiting for half an hour. After a stern lecture about the companies late policy and one written warning later I’m no worse for the wear. Just an aching hangover and the looming fear of another 8 am flight tomorrow morning. 2.5 total hours of sleep.

Happy relaxing.

Yeah, no. I’ve done some major thinking as of late as to what would be the worst job to do hungover and, up until this moment, I believed it would be a dentist. Just looking down the gullets of people with fucked up teeth while your hands shake from the booze the night before. Now, I’m convinced its this very job. Worst case scenario as a dentist is that you mess up and have to pull someone’s tooth. Worst case scenario as this guy is that you die in a flaming death that makes the news. Nope.

Nothing bad happened this weekend, but then again my weekend isn’t over yet. I stupidly got concert tickets for Sunday night. The show don’t start till 8, there are 3 bands. No way this will get over till 1. All I want to do is sleep, this was a terrible idea. Pray for me on Monday.

#NeverMissASundayShow #UnlessYouHaveCripplingAnxiety

My girlfriend of a year and some change told me while sober yesterday that she wants to get engaged this Fall and then proceeded to show me her Pinterest board of diamond rings that looked bigger than the rock Kobe gave his wife after he cheated.

If she wants to get engaged this fall, I’ve got news for you — you’re getting engaged this fall. Congratulations to you and yours and I can’t wait for an invite.

FTLT.

This story is from a wedding reception I recently attended and is thankfully not about me, but a bridesmaid at said wedding. We were doing the toasts and the Best Man and MoH had just finished their speeches. At this point, the MC asked the crowd if anyone would like to say a few words.

Uh-oh.

The bridesmaid walks up in front of the couple, takes the microphone, and gives one of the most ridiculous speeches I’ve ever heard at a wedding. Summarized below:

The bride and bridesmaid were sorority sisters in college and the two of them had a pact together. This pact revolved around “notches” that they would scratch into a crayon-shaped piggy bank that they had in their room. She didn’t explicitly say what the notches on the piggy bank meant, but everyone at the reception quickly realized that she was talking about notches on the belt and who could have the most partners in college. A sex pact crayon.

The couple getting married are very open and have a great sense of humor so they took that speech well. But, EVERYONE was talking about that bridesmaid the rest of the evening.

I guess every wedding needs a wild card.

Oh noooooooooo. It’s not that hard to crush a speech. People don’t want to hear your life story nor do they want to hear about how many dudes/girls you took down in your heyday. If you don’t know what to say, just get up there and give a brief, “You two mean so much to me and I couldn’t be happier to share this day with you. Now if everyone could raise a glass to the happy couple – cheers.” Yeah, it’s not memorable but that’s a good thing in this case.

I write this to you as I stand in a line at the airport, at 11:15 est. I flew to Toronto for a bachelor party (damn cool city, not ideal for a normal bachelor pastry though) this Thursday. Nothing about the actual festivities this weekend was regrettable or debaucherous, unlike many emails sent in by others. But today is when things got hairy. My first flight got canceled right as I got to the airport. No big deal, the re-booked flight was earlier and would get me home earlier. However, that flight is my nightmare. We boarded, then found out we had a mechanical issue. They tried to fix it, no dice. So we go back to the gate and wait 90 minutes for maintenance to show and actually fix it. Backup plane is available. After “fixing it” we re-board the same plane rather than taking the one that was good to go. That issue wasn’t apparently fixed, and by the time we got back to the gate for the second time, customs was closed, causing American to cancel the flight. I am now stranded in Toronto for an undetermined time after spending nearly 10 hours in the airport, and am forced to waste precious PTO tomorrow. I may never fly again.

While PTO is precious, that’s not even the worst part of this entire scenario. It’s just the waiting game you had to play. I know it’s impossible, but if they could just figure out flight cancellations and let you spend your time in the city you’re stuck in, all would be good in the world and you could at least enjoy your newly-extended vacation.

Technically not the weekend since all of this was Monday morning, but here it is anyways.

Woke up to my dog throwing up and she won’t eat or drink anything. Which isn’t ideal considering it’s 100 degrees outside right now.

Then, I got in a wreck on my way to work in my brand new car that I’ve had for less than a month.

Happy Monday everybody!!

Nothing worse than a sick pup. The very being that gives you all the joy in the world looking up at you wondering why they can’t keep food down. Thoughts and prayers to everyone that submitted this week, but most of all, thoughts and prayers to all the sick puppies out there. See you next week. .

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Will

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

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