Monday, March 21, 2011

Pitcher Perfect

When I left Beaner’s it was late afternoon and I was hungry.  I considered eating out but the only thing around Middle State College is fast food which I will pass on every time.  So I decided the head back to the dorms and maybe grab some food from the Cafeteria (not the best idea I’d had that day). After driving around trying to find a parking place for 20 minutes I finally walk into the Caf.  The smell of beef product drenched in pepper sauce filled my nose- it was Mexican night.  Usually I don’t have much of an appetite for the Caf food but this somehow sounded good.  It was buffet style so I didn’t hesitate to pile about four times more food on my plate than I could eat.  I even found this slightly charming girl who was in one of my classes to sit with and we talked for a few hours about various things.  She was majoring in mortuary sciences which I found fascinating, and wanted to own a funeral parlor.  I didn’t really know what to say when she divulged these bits of information so I pretended it didn’t bother me and barreled on with my questions.  She was very good at making conversation and before I knew it, it was time to go get ready for the nights festivities.

I got back to the dorms and was surprised to see Cary and a few of what had to be her friends (read: backstabbing bitchy frenemies) sitting around drinking large cheap bottles of what had to be beer.  They giggled, drooled, and talked with slurred speech that could have only been the result of too much alcohol.  I got dressed, and left, as quickly as possible while they whispered loudly to one another the way drunken people do, as if I couldn’t hear them from 5 feet away.  I hoped they would either be gone or passed out when I got back.

The bar I went to was one that the girl from earlier in the Caf invited me to.  It was your typical college bar, full of drunken frat boys, and slutty girls.  They played loud rock music, and served cheap beer but there were some attractive looking guys so I decided to stay.  I found Caf girl and proceeded to meet all her slutty friends who I’m sure would have made better conversation had they not been totally wasted.  “Fuck it,” I thought, “might as well join them.”  And boy, did I join them.  

After my second pitcher, yes pitcher, of beer to myself, my vision was beginning to become unreliable, as were my legs.  I planted myself on a bar stool to keep myself upright as this hot guy I’d been flirting with all night came back from the bathroom.  He began to do the Greg Geraldo routine about being too drunk to get on a plane.

“Excuse me miss, I don’t think you look like a sitter.”

“What?” I played along for a minute.

“Um, I think you’re too drunk to get on the plane, miss, you don’t look like much of a sitter…” he continued for several more minutes.  Had I not been completely trashed I would not have found this incredibly funny.  But I was trashed, so it was funny. 

After he finished talking I began to not feel so well and sure enough I went into the bathroom and vomited all over the toilet, somewhat missing it and getting some of it on the floor.  After that I had to find another stall because I had to pee.  Don’t judge me;  you know you’ve been there too.

When I came out of the bathroom Hot Guy, who I had been flirting with all night was shoving his tongue down some skank’s throat.   He turned to me and said “Hey babe, we were just about to leave, did you want to come?”  We? I felt the urge to vomit again and thought about running to the bathroom but I decided he deserved it and hurled all over his shoes, splattering the skank in the process, and leaving them both to stand in a puddle of my puke in shock.

Caf girl then asked if I wanted to head to the local greasy diner that was open late for some food. I agreed because after vomiting twice I felt empty and had a strong desire to fill myself again.  I was beginning to tire of drunkenness, and even though I could feel my level of intoxication lowering with every step, I felt I needed food.

The large quantities of greasy food put me in a food coma and also sobered me up enough that I started to remember what thinking clearly had felt like.  I started having thoughts like “what time is it?” and “do I still have my keys?” and “where did I park my car?” and “did I drive or did I walk to the bar?”  All of these thoughts washed over me as I ate my third plate of sliders with fries, drowned in ketchup. Leaving the diner, I may have been in a food coma but I felt massively better than when I left the bar.  It was still early, only around midnight or so, when all of us started our long, and staggering walk back to campus and the dorms. I don’t remember the walk, but the girls tell me it was uneventful.  I do remember the chilly night air further serving to sober me up which caused me to notice the intense pounding of my head.  I was looking forward to the pain killers I had in the dorm, and some sleep.

This is the part where I should confess that at first I was eager to get back to the dorms, but once I got there I felt this feeling like I shouldn’t go upstairs.  However, there was my stuff in the room and that feeling made no fucking sense, so at the time I ignored it and proceeded to go upstairs. 

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