Sometimes I drink too much at a party or at a bar.
That means, I get to deal with a long and drunken walk home.
It’s always an adventure, although not one I always remember.
My friends and I have collected some pretty crazy stories about our walks home over the past few years of college.
I would like to share some of those stories with you.
Here is part 2!
- Occasionally, the difficulties of walking home continue once we get inside. I had a housemate who could handle walking down the stairs just fine when intoxicated, but it never failed that he would fall UP the stairs every time.
- I just tend to have trouble with my bed. Once, a girl sat on it and broke it. That was sad for her. I usually just collapse drunk and knock it off of the risers, which isn’t bad until I wake up the next day, my bed is slanted and I feel like I’m on a boat.
- Back to stories of walking home. I’ve already told you of my love of running. Sometimes it’s hard for my friends to keep up with me. Once it was especially hard, as I took off running and the only person with me was a drag queen wearing heels. Poor girl! She practically kept up though which deserves a lot of respect.
- Once, I was belligerent walking home. And by walking I mean running. On the rare occasion that I actually listened to my friends and stopped running, it was usually just to hit a mailbox or throw a traffic cone into the street. I’m a winner. And apparently an ass.
- My personal favorite is the story of my friend. We went out to a gay bar one night, after having pre-gamed heavily in the hotel room. Apparently he pre-gamed too much, as we got there and he promptly proceeded to pass out on the toilet seat. After face-planting while picking up his ID, he was ready to walk home. Another girl and I walked him, but he wanted to run. If he wanted to run, he would shake us off of him, run, fall, pick himself up, shake his head, say “fierce,” start running and repeat. Classy
We’re all winners, even at our finest.