The Best Time I Threw Up … During the Holidays!
I was massively sauced during the company holiday party last week. This means, I, yes, grabbed a bottle of wine off the bar once everyone had trickled out of the venue and guzzled it in front of the poor waiters who had been watching me patiently as they bussed the tables. It also means I went to the after-party for mid-level employees and gave a toast the content of which I have no recollection.
It also means I was told by the girlfriend of my BFF office buddy that I "didn't need another drink." At which point I asked the nearest person why they were nursing their Jameson ginger and if I could help relieve them of their burden. And then, "no, no, I think you need to sit down, Charlie," someone mumbled.
I swayed to the bathroom and noticed a loose piece of tile on the floor, which I picked up and pocketed as if it were the best discovery in the world; a treasure meant especially for me.
Then someone put me in a cab (thanks second tier office BFF who is gay and has the best taste in Brit pop). Things were fading mega. The cab driver correctly assumed I was soused out of my mind and kept asking me if I knew where I was going. Did I? Probably not … I don't remember saying shit to him. Fortunately, I recognized my homeland — the desolate village we call Vinegar Hill — just before he asked me once more if I knew were I was going.
"Just let me out here! I know exactly where I am! You've been asking me that the entire time! I know where I am! Where do YOU get off?! Let me out here. I'll walk the rest of the way. And guess what, I'M NOT PAYING YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I didn't pay him. Blah blah. Anyway, I had to call an ex-boyfriend, who met me down the street from my apartment. I was splayed out on the cobblestones like so much rubbish, and he helped me in. I was severely incapacitated at that point, but I made it.
Yes I threw up, but, ever the clean freak, I wasn't drunk enough NOT to clean it up. Some of it, anyway. I was fooling around with a guy in my bed a few days later and was on the rag so I didn't want to have sex. I noticed a red spot on the sheets and thought I thought I had bled through my pants. I didn't; it was some crimson-colored barf I had managed to miss. HAPPY HOLIDAYS.
Charlie lives in Brooklyn. She also writes for The Awl.
The best time I threw up over the holidays was some frigid December night in the parking lot of a greek restaurant, where it froze solid shortly after hitting the pavement.
The second best time was earlier this month, when I tried to conceal it by puking down my sleeve.
Ahhh Vicky your story reminds me of this time — holiday un-related — I threw up in the parking lot of a strip club. Haha. That's pretty much the punchline, but it was my friend Jeremiah's birthday, so we all got really drunk and then piled into his car (he was the designated driver, happy birthday, Jeremiah!) and went to his favorite place, which was this horrible strip club outside Hartford, CT. Scores? Can't remember what it was called. On the way there I started to feel carsick (booze + a 45 minute drive), so by the time we arrived I was like, "Um, I'm just going to stay in the car." My friends were like "DONE," so they all left. I opened the door and barfed onto the parking lot for like an hour until they came back, and then we drove back home. I think I barfed out the window a bunch on the way home, too. I dEFINITELY got barf on the interior of his car, too. Truly a birthday blessing for him.
I got really drunk at a strip club in san francisco and on our way out decided the best place to pee would be basically on the tire of the car next to ours. The car started to back up when I was mid-pee so I fell back on my butt, giggling wildly. I then got back into the car with my friends, still laughing, and barely managed to get out that i had 'a secret.' They knew what it was
The Gold Club. Sorry for leaving you in the car
Under the table at a restaurant last week. In my defense, they had tile floors.
I don't remember the actual vomiting, but on new year's many years ago I forced my boyfriend to watch me pee because it "was time to take our relationship to the next step". I think he was properly horrified. As such I'm assuming I threw up later. and the next day.
New Year's Eve 1996.
I went along to a big party with some people I didn't really know. A sort-of-famous movie director followed me around all night taking pictures of me. He never looked at the camera, he just held it at his side and snapped pictures of me talking to him. I drank loads of champagne and movie director kept giving me nips of bourbon out of his flask & I guess I must have smoked at least a whole pack of cigarettes in a few hours.
I was very interested in Movie Director's friend and was just starting to get my mack on when I became dizzyingly and room-spinningly drunk. I called a cab & barely made it home before I started horking. It was a rough night. The radiator in my room was busted, it was cold as shit, and my roommate was out of town, so when I finally stopped puking, I fell asleep in his room. His dog apparently didn't approve, because when my naked, wretchedly hung-over ass woke up the next day and ran to answer the phone in my room, I threw myself onto my bed, into a cold wet pile of dogshit.
That plus my ashtray-smelling hair started horkfest 1997.
Charlie! You are my hero.
Drinking along with traders/analysts at the post holiday party when I worked on the trading floor at the bank. Because fuck them, I ran a bar for 5 years to work my way through college and it made me a bona fide alcoholic. Not to mention I'm six feet tall so I've got the body mass to hold it. "I'll have what he's having" for about 5 hours. Puked my ass off in the bathroom. Then kept drinking. A bum had to help me to my bus stop. My boyfriend at the time was piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissssssssed. Good thing I dropped that prude.
Crazy tale!
When I was a kid I barfed at my "rich aunt"'s house during a Christmas Party. Even as a youngster, I remember there being a bit of a class warfare thing tacitly taking place – we were to be on our best behavior, not to say anything untoward, we wore new clothes. It was a capital "O" – Occasion.
But yea, I barfed all over her expensive couch from God knows where, made by God knows whoever she name dropped while she was yelling about this being the reason she doesn't allow children in her house. Then all of the adults in my family made my barfing incident into a yelling match/therapy session about how my aunt was a golddigger for marrying up and how she lied about her ethnicity all the time and how the rest of my family were just jealous because she used to be a Playboy bunny and now she's rich and how yeah she's rich but her husband is never around, so what's he REALLY up to?
At the time, it felt really horrible, but when all these details came flooding back earlier this year when the whole fam packed up to her rich-house/vineyard for her birthday, I remember thinking that this would all probably make an awesome one-act play. Not that I can ever actually finish writing anything that's not an internet comment.
TMI?
OH MY GOD!!! NOT EVEN ENOUGH I
Years ago I had my eye on a very cute stock guy at a shop where I was working. We flirted like crazy for about 2 years until finally we were both single, drunk and at a Christmas party for work.
Not content to be just drunk enough to work up the courage to invite him home, I proceeded to do shot after shot of really low-grade tequila. Well, cute stock guy did come home with me and stayed the night at my place.
The next morning I had to get up and go to work and the brilliance of my "drinking plan" from the night before coupled with the stark reality of a co-worker in my bed were making me a little queasy, but I downed some ibuprofen a glass of water and powered through.
The guy was nice enough to make sure I got into work safely so he accompanied me on the train.
I was doing ok more or less until I suddenly had the urge to cough. Well… I didn't exactly cough. I vomited large amounts of water and whatever tequila must have been left in my stomach in a large spray all over the R train.
The tourists who were on their way to Times Square were horrified as they tried to move to another section of the car. But to his credit my one night stand handled the whole thing quite well.
Happy Holidays!
I have to say…. at least I'm not the only one: justfryd.wordpress.com I'm starting to think it's a co-worker/office problem and not really a drinking problem. Which seems…. reasonable and logical. I think.