You see, I fancy myself a drinker. However when the spirits have been flowing I tend to make mistakes. During the party I parked myself in the garage where the keg was located and played beer pong most of the night. By the time the party was winding down I was near the point of being "Schaivo'd". The residents of Quaker Court, and my close friends will understand the the term but many wont so I will lay it out like this.
1st click this link if you don't know who Terri Schaivo is:
2nd try to grasp this concept:
tipsy<buzzed<drunk<hammered<smashed<blacked out< "SCHIAVO'D"
This photo represents me in the "buzzed" state posted up at the keg.
This is me clearly at the drunk stage, creeping on Rae Baby.
Here I am in the moderately "smashed" possibly into the "hammered" stages.
(notice the final keg is dead)
In this photo I am totally blacked out. I have my older brother in a headlock.
(note: I appear to be having fun, but my eyes are nearly closed and emotionless)
Unfortunately no photos were taken of me in the Schiavo'd state.
Pulling off this feat can only done by the true shit show. It is usually induced by a combination of energy drinks, and a fuck-ton of alcohol, but on this occasion it was something different. I was the end product of a rookie trying to keep up with some of the University of Michigan's finest drinkers. I was figuratively "showing my ass".
The party was going swimmingly until the last of the kegs was tapped. Remember earlier when I talked about me being poor at making inebriated decisions...yeah, that is about to happen. So here we are, a bunch of guys and gals in our early to mid-twenties with our alcohol supply nearly tapped. The only thing standing is a few bottles of wine that the elders of the family didn't get to during the festivities. Drinking wine is boring, and I personally don't enjoy the taste. I am not exactly the kind of guy that owns a smoking jacket, and talks about stocks. So I have the bright idea of playing "wine pong"...fuck. At this point of my alcoholic journey I am smashed, rounding the base making a b-line towards being blacked out.
And then it happened.
(8-12ish hours missing from memory)
I wake up surrounded by friends and family in my parents dining room. I seem to remember my parents dining room a lot less slippery, and a lot less chunky. Yes, baby made vom vom. There was a blast radius of about 6 feet surrounding my puke covered corpse-like body. It consisted mostly of beer, wine, and my Aunt Mary's famous salsa...I must have had a black out craving. I don't remember what happened, but there were plenty of onlookers. So the rest of the story will be pieced together from various witnesses recollections.
My bedroom at my parents house is carpeted. and directly outside my door is a large area rug, that my mom spent too much money on, that covers a sitting room hardwood floor. By the wall leading out of there is a trail of exposed hardwood that leads to the hardwood floor dining room. I'd draw a map...but I don't care that much...and you probably get the picture. From what friends, and my then girlfriend, now wife, have told me this is what happened. I being "schiavo'd" woke up from my coma in dire need to puke. I apparently got out of bed and looked for a place to release my belly full of goodies, and realizing I was on carpet did what any good son would do. Sacrifice your self...pride. I pulled out my shirt into a basket like shape and puked into it. I walked out the door and deposited my papoose of bile into the corner of the sitting room. I started to walk over the nice carpet in the "sitting room" and felt some more spew coming. I dove to the wall where there was no carpet and puked again. Once again missing the rug that my mom loves. I then reportedly crawled on my hands and knees spraying putrid wine and salsa vomit,then forming it into a nice pile, moving forward, and then continuing on my way for 2 or 3 feet before repeating the process. All the while I was avoiding the carpet, and telling onlookers about my moms precious rug. I then apparently decided that the dining room would be a suitable resting place for the evening and laid down on the ground. I don't believe this part, but I will post it anyway. I supposedly laid on the ground with one eye open with a sea of salsa, beer, wine, chips, and other assorted snacks flowing forth from my stomach to form the previously mentioned 6 foot blast radius. I guess, I cant argue with the evidence.