Now to start this story off correctly, I feel I must first explain the outfit to you. The night started off in my bedroom, alone, getting ready. Now I had this bright green tube top I had bought from a small boutique on the Lower East Side for less then 20 bucks. It was ribbed and long and almost covered the entire length of my white denim skirt. I thought I looked great.
2005 called ...and it wants its top back
This outfit alone we shall refer to as, Mistake Number One.
Now let’s proceed to Mistake Number Two.
Punch.
Yeah, fucking punch man.
Fruity, pink colored, tasty, delicious, fucking punch.
I don’t know why, but it tricks me like a good looking man every time.
Oh yum, what is this pink, fruity , delicious…BA-BAM! What’s my..whochose mah name..my schmamane…ahhh whereshess mah pursh?
At the time I was at a party on the Upper East Side. The girls I was with decided to head out and over to a bar downtown. As they were leaving the party I saw them out of the corner of my one-blurred-eye and instinctively followed behind. I knocked out two sorority chicks into a glass coffee table trying to make it to the door, I was in a fucking white denim mini skirt and I was taking no prisoners. As soon as I made it out the front door I was so wobbly in my heels I lost my balance and fell down one flight of steps.
Well, at least I was at the bottom now.
This is where the story starts to become unclear. We will now come upon moments of blackness.
And these moments I will cleverly refer to in the story as, “moments of blackness”.
I remember getting in the cab. And then there is about ten minutes of blackness.
The next thing I know I look around and I am standing in McFadden’s Bar and Grill on 42nd Street.
This will be known as: Mistake Number Three.
Now I remember someone handing me a cranberry and vodka. And I remember turning around to flirt with some dark haired boy. Followed by a moment of blackness.
For whatever reason the next thing I knew when I looked up I was making out with this boy, in a booth in the restaurant-dining-section of McFaddens, where other patrons where sitting eating broccoli and cheddar soup.
Mistake Number Four.
In midst of the seventh-grade make-out session in the bottom of the vinyl booth, I paused to look up around me. Strange Boy leaned in to kiss me again, I hesitated feeling the distinctive rumble in my stomach and burning in my throat. I looked at him and quickly got up from the booth, turned around and said , “Excuse me... I have to go vomit now.”
And walked away.
Just like that.
Unfortunately for me, there were three wooden steps I had to go down to make it over to the bathroom area. Holding into random strangers for support I finally hit the third stair, when I lost my balance and fell backwards into a group of guys.
“Whoa whoa whoa, watch chourself!” I yelled at the boys. “Jush betcher watch jushelf!” I said again, clearly pointing at the dudes who caught me falling.
“Kim?” I heard one of the guys say.
This part I refer to as, Mistake Number Five.
I whipped around, which in my drunken stupor was more like two times around, and squinted my eyes, staring into his face. I was now about two inches from the tip of his nose.
Suddenly it hit me.
Me- “The g-chym! The chym, jush a trainer at the chym?”
Trainer- “Yeah I’m a trainer at your gym, I see you there a lot, my name is Doug.”
Me- “Ryan?”
Trainer-“No, no…uh…my name is Doug.”
Me- “Brian! It is so ghood to see chu Brian!”
Trainer-“It’s Doug.”
Me-“Oh, sorry Ryan…where’s mah friends Ryan, whereas my friends, I chant find them?”
Trainer-”I don’t know what they look like Kim... I don’t know your friends.”
Me- “Molly? Chu don't know her? I jush need chu to find them fhor me. Can chu finhd them??”
Trainer (please make note he said this completely deadpan) “Well... do you have a picture of them on you?”
Now I actually stopped and thought about this for a moment. In fact maybe more then a moment, maybe more like a good 10 or 15 seconds. It did seem logical.
Me-“Actually… I don’t.”
He laughed a little. Then all I remember is turning around and someone handing me another cranberry and vodka.
There is now a moment of blackness.
I do not remember leaving McFaddens. I do not remember getting in the cab. I do not even remember the actual cab ride. (another note- the only good thing about being this drunk is you dont spend shit money-wise, everyone pays for everything for you...mostly because you don't even know how to unbuckle your wallet at this point.)
I do remember the cab stopping however and I looked up, my face hanging outside the windshield. Apparently I had been riding the entire cab ride like that... face out the window in the wind, like a Golden Retriever.
My friends opened the door on the right and I opened the door on the left. As I went to stand and walk out of the cab, it hit me. I couldn’t stand at all. I lost my balance and fell right into the bush outside my building.
I just laid there.
In the distance I could hear my friends talking.
But I couldn’t move.
Friend 1- “Wait…where did Kim go? She got out of the cab right?”
Friend 2- “Yeah, I mean I saw her open her door and get out, I know she got out.”
Friend 1 “Where the hell did she go…KIM?! Kim?!”
I wanted to yell back that I was here. I was OK and I was here. But I couldn’t speak. So I just kept laying in the bush.
Finally, Friend 2 spotted me.
Friend 2- “Oh My God! She is in the bush! Kim, Kim, come get out of that bush, come upstairs, come get out of the bush!”
Me- “No, jush leave me here for a bit…jush nicea out herea…let meh sleep in the bush for a minutea.”
Friend 2 “No no Kim, you can't sleep in the bush... Let’s get you inside..”
There is then about the next hour or so of blackness.
And then vomit.
Lots and lots of vomit.
Extreme increasing clarity. Followed by an absurd about of vomit. Vomit coming out of my nose, stinging my eyes. Everywhere.
Followed by even worse,weeks worth of calling some NYSC personal trainer “Ryan” only to find out a month later when the manager finally had to come over and inform me that his name was actually Doug…and that "Doug" would prefer if I did not follow him around in the gym anymore.
Fuckin punch man.
Only $55 Dollars A Month To Embarrass Yourself
