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Yesterday, this Reddit thread made it to the front page for asking people to describe their craziest blackout drunk experiences.
And they all sucked: getting drunk and going to the grocery store in your underwear, getting thrown out of a strip club for loudly inquiring about sex, or capturing and releasing a seagull into a bar that you just got kicked out of. Okay, that last one is pretty funny.
However, it got me thinking about a few of my more outrageous exploits that I either have partial recollection of, or that have been told back to me. So I thought I would share a few of my favorites:
1. I mixed alcohol, cocaine, Klonopin, and Ambien over the course of a big night out. Then, I went home to my apartment, got naked, and blacked out. I woke up to the feeling of someone punching me in the head. Turns out, I ended up in the wrong apartment, took my clothes off, and tried to climb into a stranger’s bed.
2. I threw a bratty 8-year-old girl in the country club pool for “acting like a cunt.” This story would have been wiped for my memory altogether if not for the certified letter that I received a few days letter, explaining why I was being expelled from the club.
3. I totaled a brand new Maserati at 4am and then fled the scene by bribing a taxi driver who had initially insisted on calling the police. I woke up the next morning unsure if it hadn’t just been a dream. It wasn’t.
4. I picked up a girl at a bar in Singapore. In a blackout, I took her back to my hotel. The next morning, to my surprise, she demanded payment for services rendered. I’ve got no cash and there’s no way in hell I’d do the reverse walk of shame to an ATM. Without any options, I paid her in items from my hotel minibar, i.e. most of the booze.
5. I got blackout drunk on a flight from New York to London. Apparently, we encountered violent turbulence and I became convinced that the plane was going to crash. So I ran up a $600 air phone bill calling everyone I knew to say my final good byes – including all of my exes. I woke up eight hours later in a wheelchair in the Heathrow first class arrivals lounge. When I turned on my phone, I had over 30 voicemails and countless texts.
6. One hung-over morning in the office, I received a package via courier that contained nothing but a watermelon. Only later would I learn the relevance – that, at a hedge fund client dinner the night before, I started a food fight in the main dining room of the Shangri-La hotel restaurant with the platters of fruit from the buffet table.
7. After attending a black tie work function and partying all night, I came to early the next morning on a train 90 minutes outside the city. By the time I made it back in, I had to race directly to the office in order to meet a project deadline – where I received a standing ovation for walking onto a trading floor on time (7:30am) still wearing last night’s tuxedo.
8. To cap off a wild bachelor party weekend in Manila, we spent the final day drinking at the hotel bar. When it came time to leave for the airport, I could barely walk. The hotel dutifully loaded me into a wheelchair and took us to the airport. In a blackout, I am wheeled through check-in, immigration, security, and onto the plane. In my slobbering, incoherent stupor, I can only assume that the fight attendants thought that I was both physically and mentally handicapped. I made a miraculous recovery upon seeing the pre-flight drinks tray, snapped out of my blackout, jumped up and chugged two glasses of wine – then was promptly loaded back into a wheelchair and removed from the plane.
9. I took some clients to my girlfriend’s favorite Italian restaurant, where, following 12 bottles of wine, we started a game where every trip to the bathroom required coming back with a souvenir. Rolls of toilet paper, wall art, a plunger, a paper towel dispenser, and even a toilet seat all ended up under our table. When I called the next day to offer to pay for any damage, I was informed that my patronage was no longer welcome. The only thing that makes this story memorable is that I had to spend the next nine months making elaborate excuses to my girlfriend as to why I didn’t want to eat there anymore.
10. After living in the Four Seasons for six months, I am surprised to be informed that they are kicking me out. Here’s the transcript of the actual email they sent me.
For the record, I’m not necessarily proud of many of these moments, and I am well aware of the fact that, in most cases, I am the asshole, and even in some cases, the douche. But this is what happens in your 20s when you work in investment banking. Now that I’m in my 30s, married with two kids, and not getting blackout drunk, I can look back at these moments and laugh. Because, who gives a fuck?
Got a better story? Feel free to share it in the comments..