I feel there is a special way that drunken stories should be told; the parts that you remember, and the parts that friends told you happened. I will tell my story in this manner. All writing in bold is information that was said to of happened by my friends.

Night at the Country Bar

Well it was a Thursday night my Fall semester as a Freshman. At the time I only had one class scheduled for MWF at 8AM. (Which is a common freshman mistake) Well this Friday we weren't having class for some reason. I think the teacher just wanted a day off. But I wasn't about to complain. I hadn't partied in a while (at least 3 days) and figured I might as well take advantage of my free time. I called my friend Brent to see what he had going down for the night, and he said he was up for anything. He called some girls to see what they were up to. They were heading out to "Midnight Rodeo" later that night. Neither one of us was big on country dancing, much less even liked Country music, but figured drinking can make a fun night of anything. Brent offered for us to meet up with them and take them there. They agreed, so Brent and I had about an hour or two of time to kill. So we decide to go to the liquor store to pick up a bottle of vodka and a 12 pack of Coors Light. Then we went back to my dorm to finish off the 12 pack and play some video games to pass the time. It got to be about 8:30 or so and we went to the girls' dorm. We hung out there and drank a little of the vodka before we left. I then drove my car (6 people in a Neon) to this country bar. Yes, I had been drinking, but was fine to drive. Once we got there, the girls went on inside and me and Brent took a few more hits from the bottle before we had to go inside. I have to say that I did have more than Brent out of the bottle (he agrees). Now that we were well on our way to being toast, it was time for some 'country dancing.' We paid $10 to get in and started to walk around. I had never been to a country bar and let me tell you, I did NOT fit in. I've never seen so many hill-billies in huge cowboy hats in my life. I remember standing and just looking at all the people doing their country dancing and talking to Brent about how we don’t fit in. Then we decide to go out onto the dance floor to test our country dancing skills. However we didn’t know what the hell we were doing and pretty much made fools of ourselves. Then I decided it would be pretty cool if I did a cartwheel on the dance floor. So I did just that and succeeded in kick the beer out of the guy’s hand next to me. Luckily I was very apologetic when he tried to start a fight with me and kind of just walked away quickly. I then proceeded to walk up to a table and take a long drink from someone’s pitcher of beer, put it back on the table and walk away quickly. All that walking quick didn’t help my aim as I was walking through the crowd. So there were quite a few bumps and pushes along the way, which almost started many fights by themselves. Finally we realized that we had no place being in a country bar and I suggested leaving. As we walked out the door I somehow new that we were in trouble and told Brent to just keep walking quickly without making eye contact with the angry bouncers. Just as we thought we were home free a bouncer in the parking lot shouted, “Hold on boys, you might be going to jail tonight.” They told us that they didn’t want us to ever come back there again. We explained that we never wanted to come back and that’s what we were doing right then. Somehow we got them to let us go free. We walked to the car, I gave Brent the keys to my car. I’m glad that I didn’t try to drive. At least my unconscious mind knows when I’m drunk and can’t drive. So we drove back to my place. (Remember the girls we drove there? Well we didn’t. We left them there. Luckily they found a ride home.) If you don’t know my car, it has really tight springs, which makes the ride very bouncy. All that bouncing added to the cartwheel I did early didn’t do too well for my stomach. I think that I was asleeping (props to Brian for the word) in my chair when I threw up in my own car. To add to it, I had lots of mashed potatoes and corn for dinner that night. To add to it more I had the good aim to get it on the center console and all the nooks and crannies in there. We finally got to my dorm and parked out front. Brent got out and I just stayed in my chair. After about 5 minutes of him haggling me to get out and me replying that I was just going to sleep in my car, two ladies walked up. They asked if there was a problem. Brent replied that everything was good and that I just had a lot to drink tonight. They replied, “I don’t think so. We’re undercover police officers.” Brent talked to them for about 5 minutes. They said that they were undercover to try to crack down on bicycle thefts. Finally they agreed to let us just go up to my room. They went down the street a little and sat on a bench and watched us. About 5 minutes later Brent finally got me out of the car and walked me to the door. Of course it was the side door, which can’t be opened from the outside after 12. So I stood there and he went around to open the door. Afterwards he practically dragged me up the stair to the hallway in front of my room. He knocked on my door and my roommate (the dumbass from last year that smelled like shit all the time) opened the door. Brent figured that my roommate could take care of me or at least just get me in the room. So Brent went back outside to walk to his dorm. When he got outside the ladies were still there and asked where I was. He told them that my roommate was taking care of me. They said that wouldn’t cut it because he had told them he was going to take care of me. So they all went back up to my hall to see how I was. Well they found me passed out in the hall with a pillow my roommate threwo n me. My piece of shit roommate didn’t even get me in my room (which would have ended the night with no further problems). So the ladies try to wake me up, but I’m out pretty good now. After about 5 minutes of that the ladies call an Ambulance, the hall coordinator, my RA, the RA on call and campus police. Brent in the mean time goes to the bathroom down the hall to ditch the bottle of vodka that he has in his backpack and get a trashcan for me to throw up in. After dragging the can all the way down the hall, everyone on my floor was awake and watching what was going on. I woke up about that time too. My roommate finally came out of the room to see what was going on. I think that the fire truck was the first thing to get there. I don’t know why they came, but they did. They asked me how much I had to drink. I replied a couple of beers and a couple of shots of vodka. They asked how much I normally have. I said usually a little less so that I don’t get this trashed. Then the campus police showed up as well and the RA’s. They started asking my address. I told them “k231 … 305 East 21st st.” They said “No, your home address, your permanent.” For some reason I didn’t want to tell that to them, I don’t know why I thought that. So I continued, “Austin, Tx … 78705.” They eventually got my address from my wallet I suppose. About that time, Brent talked his way out and went home. I don’t blame him, I’d want to get out as fast as possible too. Next my hall coordinator showed up. I had met him one time before so I knew his name was Shawn. We had talked a little about computers and such so I felt like I knew him. Luckily for me, I remembered his name when he got there. I was “What’s up Shawn.” He didn’t really seem to remember me. I said, “Do you not remember me? We talked just the other day.” He talked to me for a while. I was holding a normal conversation in between sentences I would throw up into the trashcan next to me. I just kept saying, “I’m right next to my room. Just let me go in and sleep. I’ve thrown up and gotten the alcohol out of my system, now I can sleep.” Then the Austin police showed up. They where major assholes. They pretty much just walked up, saw that I was drunk and said, “Let’s just take him to jail.” My hall coordinator suggested for my roommate to take care of me for the night. They told us that we could do that but said that if I died that it would be my roommate’s responsibility. They made him sign a waver for that and everything. The only other option was for me to go to jail. Man if my roommate had let me go to jail, I would have even more pissed. So everyone left and I crawled into my room and passed out on the floor. So my roommate thinks that such a great guy that he took care of me. But none of it would have happened if he had just brought me in the room in the first place. So I woke up the next morning with a killer hangover and really dirty car and a $50 ticket on my car for parking in the loading zone. What a night.