I promised a drunken debauchery story, and I'm here to give it. But I have to say that I received some awesome stories!! If you haven't read them... go back and check them out, here.
So I was barely 21... myself and three girlfriends went out to hit the town. We started out at a local casino for dinner, and while we waited for our table, I had a couple double shots of tequila. During dinner? A margarita. After dinner? More tequila. There was supposed to be a male strip show at this casino (remember, this is 1992 - there's no Thunder Down Under, yet). The show was in one of the banquet rooms, and they'd oversold tickets, and the guys... were not so much to look at. So we moved on to some other place and you guessed it - more tequila. I was not driving that night, so obviously I was on a bit of a mission.
The next thing I remember was being at a nightclub. I remember it being called Utopia at some point, but it may have had a different name back then (I do believe either the Paris or the Venetian stands where it used to be). I started to feel pretty woozy, and the Mexican food we'd eaten for dinner wasn't feeling so good. I remember my girlfriends getting me to a table on an outdoor balcony for fresh air, and it didn't last long. I barely made it to the women's restroom at the club, and promptly threw up in every single stall in that bathroom, repeatedly. I remember them being quite concerned that I might throw up in my friend's brand new Mustang, LOL. I also remember the security guard at the club - he was concerned I had alcohol poisoning (he was right), and he asked if they wanted him to call an ambulance. I remember thinking "Wow, I look that bad?". After I'd thrown up things I'd probably eaten three days prior, they got me home.
I spent most of the night in the bathroom with dry heaves, and I think I ate only saltines for two days after that. The funniest part... I still lived at home when this occurred. My Dad found some serious amusement in my state the next day, and kept asking me if I wanted a greasy pork sandwich! He loves telling this story, cause I was on the bathroom floor in quite a state for hours, giving that inevitable "I'll never, ever do this again" mumble. To this day, I can't stand the smell of tequila!
So I was barely 21... myself and three girlfriends went out to hit the town. We started out at a local casino for dinner, and while we waited for our table, I had a couple double shots of tequila. During dinner? A margarita. After dinner? More tequila. There was supposed to be a male strip show at this casino (remember, this is 1992 - there's no Thunder Down Under, yet). The show was in one of the banquet rooms, and they'd oversold tickets, and the guys... were not so much to look at. So we moved on to some other place and you guessed it - more tequila. I was not driving that night, so obviously I was on a bit of a mission.
The next thing I remember was being at a nightclub. I remember it being called Utopia at some point, but it may have had a different name back then (I do believe either the Paris or the Venetian stands where it used to be). I started to feel pretty woozy, and the Mexican food we'd eaten for dinner wasn't feeling so good. I remember my girlfriends getting me to a table on an outdoor balcony for fresh air, and it didn't last long. I barely made it to the women's restroom at the club, and promptly threw up in every single stall in that bathroom, repeatedly. I remember them being quite concerned that I might throw up in my friend's brand new Mustang, LOL. I also remember the security guard at the club - he was concerned I had alcohol poisoning (he was right), and he asked if they wanted him to call an ambulance. I remember thinking "Wow, I look that bad?". After I'd thrown up things I'd probably eaten three days prior, they got me home.
I spent most of the night in the bathroom with dry heaves, and I think I ate only saltines for two days after that. The funniest part... I still lived at home when this occurred. My Dad found some serious amusement in my state the next day, and kept asking me if I wanted a greasy pork sandwich! He loves telling this story, cause I was on the bathroom floor in quite a state for hours, giving that inevitable "I'll never, ever do this again" mumble. To this day, I can't stand the smell of tequila!
RSS Feed (xml)
8 comments:
LMAO, now this story rocks!! I love drunk stories, they're just fun and we all have a couple good ones. It's even better when you have people given ya crap the next day about it and if ya have to have people fill in a few of the blanks.
Southern Comfort is the booze I gotta avoid at all costs. Haven't touched the stuff since I was 17 years old. lol
Somehow drinking like that never seems to produce good results. (except for those that are watching)
Was your dad quoting Weird Science?
LMAO!
Good story! It only sucks that all these stories end up with us suffering so much at the end. :)
ROTFL!!!! Great story! Thanks for sharing.
Great story. I had a few at home, too, and it was Dad who rubbed it in.
This was a great idea. I enjoyed reading some of the craziness we've endured.
I'm off this week due to a swine flu case at school, so I have time to kill. I hope I don't create another story to tell as a result.
I'm still trying to figure which story of mine is the best to share..and I love tequila btw.. that took some practice and trial and error.. but it gets me going!
your story is a good one.. the 'not-so-hot' male dancers make me laugh.. Vegas back then must have been a weird trip.. just before all the super high-end resorts.
The building where Utopia was, is still there.. only now it is Empire Ballroom. I haven't been in a very long time.. but it was fun once upon a time.
YOU POOR THING! Oh my gosh, i can feel that gross feeling of being on the bathroom floor!!!!
Ok check out what Nik said - I was just going to say EXACTLY what Nik said minus 1 year!!!
When I was 16 I got so shitfaced on Southern Comfort that just typing the words makes me feel a bit queasy. My boyfriend had to carry/drag me about five blocks home as I puked my way from his house to mine.
Post a Comment