The night before this my friend and I had some Admiral Nelson. You see, I'm a rum gal. Can't really get enough of it. Lately it has been wine, but back then it was always rum. There was only about four or five shots left for the next time. I asked my friend if I'd be able to have some of the rum.
Needless to say, she let me have most of what was left. But once I get rum in my system I can't have enough. So once I finished the bottle I searched for the owner of the house to see if there'd be any rum she'd be willing to donate.
Luck was on my side that night. She was more than happy to help me get drunk and was really nice about sharing her rum. The only thing was, it was Bacardi Gold. One of the only alcohols that I vowed I'd never drink again after blacking out. But I didn't want to end the night early, so she helped me out by turning that nasty devil drink into a tasty pineapple explosion.
This process happened about three times in the course of maybe an hour. This is drunken time, though. Could go more or less. Either way I was getting shitty drunk. By the fourth time of me coming up to her and asking if she wanted to do shots, she just offered me the rest of the bottle. It was like I was being offered the golden elixir of life.
So the rest of me owning this bottle was pretty much just me hugging it and cherishing it like a new born baby. Might have been caring it around like one, too.
After a while, though, I either started to get really really hot or really really nauseous. So the only course of action could be to venture outside. I stumbled my way without telling anyone what I was up to. I remember my friend being out there coming inside but I can't remember anything that was said. Probably to the effect that I was fine. Who knows.
Now, earlier before we even went to the party I had packed some comfy pants with me just in case I felt the need to change. But now that I was obliterated drunk I seemed to have forgotten that bit and thought, "SHIT I need to be comfy NOW."
So with that I decided I'd just go walk home and grab some comfy pants and come right back. (I only live a couple blocks away from the party) Without going inside and telling anyone I was leaving, without getting my keys to my car or my phone I started to walk.
It was pretty chilly out that night, but because of how much I drank I was fairly warm. I remember holding my arms to my chest pretty tight though to keep warm. I stumbled to our door because maybe it'd be magically open. It wasn't. Which meant I had to climb through my window. How my cat didn't escape is beyond me because I'm sure I wasn't graceful at this point whatsoever.
I changed into my comfy pants and went to the bathroom. To pee. But I may of gotten sick as well, I can't really remember that part.
But by this time the rum had really caught up with me. I staggered around my room for a bit, threw up in my trash can and decided there was no way I'd be able to make it back up there. So, again, without letting anyone know where I had gone, I passed out on my bed.
I promptly woke up at 6 30 in the morning freaking out, remembering that I had left everything precious to me at the house up the street. After the panic subsided a bit and my wits came back, I came to the conclusion that I had to just walk back up there and hope that someone would be awake.
As I walked up the street I began to panic because I didn't see my car where I had left it. I knocked on the door and there were a couple people still awake. I went into the bedroom and woke my friend up and got my phone back and she told me that my friend who lived a neighborhood away had taken my car to his house to keep it safe and to get home.
So with that I walked up to his house, got my keys from the backseat and drove back to my house and passed out again. I think I woke back up around 10 and drove back up to the party house and grabbed my friends and other possessions that were still there.
I will never get this drunk again. Ever.
Sounds like Tequila Friday!
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