Drunk Stories

My Drunken Story

Alright, I'm a Senior at TAMU. And this story happened towards the end of fall semester my junior year. It was originally an e-mail to some friends (up at Yale, the black-hole liberal center of the universe; silly Yankees) and I figured I'd leave it unchanged and unembellished. Hope ya'll enjoy.

So, we have a party on friday and I pass out at about 1. Come three o'clock, Hondo and Dax wake me up and are all like, "c'mon, we're leaving, we packed you a bag, let's go." I'm totally incoherant and rambling something about how much better coffee is than tea. I'm pretty sure that I don't want to go but I know for a fact that I just want them to leave me alone so if going and getting in Dax's truck will make them leave me alone, I'm all for it.

So, I fall asleep in the back of Dax's Rodeo and when I wake up, it's seven o'clock, the sun is coming up over Lake Medina, and Dax and Hondo had just driven for 3 1\2 hours to Medina county and I am seriously pissed. Seriously, seriously pissed. It turns out somebody found my Aderall and decided that it'd be cool to give some out as party favors so Dax and Hondo we're hepped up on aderal when they decided they wanted to go to Lake Medina, where Hondo has a lake house, and get his tennis shoes so that he can work out. I am so fucking pissed, I was pretty sure I was dreaming the whole thing. They inform me that they nearly hit a dear at about 6 and that weirded Dax out so much that he took a half hour to get a little bit more drunk (it's not like he's gonna get in a wreck on a farm road, ya know). Oh, and that's right, we had a trashcan full of ice and a tapped keg in the back seat along with me. I was hugging it in my sleep. It's was like a teddy bear; a big freezing cold, wet teddy bear that drips on your face. So here we are, three guys, one passed out, and two all crazy on speed with a tapped keg in the back. But it get's better

So, then after I calm down we head out to Hondo's ranch and go looking around for some wild hog's for Dax to kill, cause he's never killed anything, but we crapped out so we decided it'd be cool to go to Bandera (Lake Medina is about 45 minutes from Hondo's and Bandera is about half an hour from Lake Medina, Lake Medina is almost directly in between Hondo's farm and Bandera). and get a slab of pork spare ribs and grill those puppies up. So we cook up some jalapeno beans, get some bread for napkins, make some barbecue sauce and throw the ribs on the grill. We get drunk, eat ribs and beans, and decided to go dance with a train.

So, hondo takes us out to a suspension bridge about 20-30 minutes away and points out where we are supposed to sit and watch the train go by no more than a foot maybe a foot and half away. And they're allowed to go sixty at this place so these things are fucking hauling like most people have never seen a train haul. So, Dax goes over to get a beer and is on his way back up when all of a sudden a train rounds a corner and blinds the fuck out of us. Plus we were totally not where we were supposed to be, we were like 50 feet away and I hear Hondo go, "Oh, shit, run!" So he turns away from the train and starts hauling ass towards Dax. Dax is trying to see because the light is so fucking bright and when he finally see's how close the damn thing is he's like "Oh, good God." He gives up trying to see me and Hondo, who are running our asses off away from this train. Because where we are, we can either jump of the bridge, which is suspended about 150 feet over a dry creek bed, die, or outrun the thing and clear the bridge before the train does. Dax is in front of Hondo, and Hondo is in front of me, I'm the last one so I just see the back of Hondo's carhart (a jacket) get brighter and brighter and brighter and I'm totally thinking that if any of us are gonna die, it's gonna be me. I was too fucking scared to be scared yet. All I was thinking was, I must run faster. I must run faster. I hear the engineer honking the horn and it gets louder and louder and you just have no idea how fucking scared I was. Suddenly the steel mesh ends and I'm running on rock, I see Hondo dive and I just do the same thing. So I dive off the thing onto a bunch of pumice lava rocks, cut the shit outta my jeans and my face, flip down the bank, and my boot sole hit's this tree branch sticking up outta the dark and put's a hole in my sole. ,Now, when I say it's dark, I mean it's dark dark dark, only get's this dark in the country dark. There is no ambiant light, no moonlight, all we have is starlight. It's takes us about fifteen minutes to find each other in the dark, and they're all calling out my name thinking I might not have made it. We climb back up the bank and get in our car and calm down. I have the jitters because of the train and the tree stump which could have easily killed me. We go to a convenience store and Dax and I need duct tape to tape up the hole's in our boots and get bandaid's for my face. That was probably the most scared I have ever been in my entire life.

Anyway, we decide that it's time to go shoot some hogs out at Hondo's again. So we get a .20 gauge and .243 and a spotlight and go looking for hogs. Unfortunantly, we crap out again and decide to listen to some Charlie Robison singing songs like "You shoulda shot a poor man's son" and "You're not the best, baby, but your the best that I can do" and David Allan Coe's X-rated with songs like "Fuckin in the butt," and "Cum stains in the bed." But I digress, so anyway we get drunk again and go to sleep.

We wake up on sunday, go through Fredericksburg, have lunch with my grandparents (yes, we're following them around with a tapped keg in the back and pray that the sheriff can't see it or pull us over for Dax's expired inspection sticker) and go back to college station via Luckenbach. We walk in, have some beers, and listen to this old cowboy hippie wail on the guitar. He just dropped by for the hell of it, they're prone to do that on the weekends. So, on our way out we look around, don't see anybody, put some ice in the trashcan, tap it again, poor ourselves some beers, and get in and start to drive away when we look at the van next to us and see that there isn't just a person, but four people in it who sat there and watched us do all this shit. AND THE VAN WAS FROM FIRST METHODIST CHURCH Of SAN ANGELO! Which I still know several people who are members. We haul ass out of there and start trying to get some distance between us and Luckenbach, make it to Johnson City and find out there's a road block down the highway for the Texas 7 escaped convicts. Instead of ditching the keg, we spend another hour getting around the roadblock and continue getting drunk. By the time we make it back, we're smelly, cut up (I needed two bandaids on my face and a huge mother bandaid on my hand), unshaved, unshampooed, most of our clothes are covered with lava rock dust and barbecue sauce and mud from hog hunting. It was the most amazing and terrible weekend I ever had. And they fucking kidnapped me. I can't get over that part. They carried me out of my warm, soft bed and kidnapped me, the bastards.

Anyway, just thought you should know what you're missing down here in the great state of Texas. So, okie dokie, hope I didn't bore you with my story of kidnap, drunkeness, and near death experiences.


Back to Drunken Stories Home Page