Devastating Ubers, Getting Puked On, and Public Urination: The Worst Stories From This Weekend
Admission: I was sick this weekend.
Admission, Part II: I still managed to casually sip IPAs while watching football most of the weekend. Definitely did not help. But hey, that’s why I’m old an living vicariously through you and all these stories.
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All responses are unedited and in blockquotes below, so don’t blame me for poor grammar or run-on sentences. Now let’s get to it.
Was visiting my brother in Seattle for Halloween. He was in the army and stationed on base near Tacoma 1 hour south of Seattle, crashing on his futon in the barracks. Took a bus from the base to Seattle for a bar crawl around 1130-12pm. After drinking for about 12 hours we’re so hammered I just order an Uber back to the base. Winds up being about a $100 ride that I passed out in, vomited in, (another $200) and left my phone in. Realized as we got into the barracks.
Use my brothers phone to call mine and yell “you gotta turn around and drop my phone back at the gate to the base” the driver, thankfully, does. Then take my brothers keys and drive around for about an hour, drunk, on an army base in the middle of the night. Can’t find the gate and get lost, eventually get back to the barracks and decide to give up and deal with it in the morning before I have to fly out that afternoon.
Wake up with the worst hangover and full of shame. Walk over to the gate which I couldn’t find the previous night, and have to approach the armed guards and ask them if they had my phone. Thankfully they did, and gave me the most “you better get the fuck out of here” looks I’ve ever gotten. Brother drops me off the at the airport to fly from Seattle to Charlotte where I had a layover before flying to Cincinnati. Once at Charlotte I proceeded to get Bojangles from terminal B and eat 2 spicy chicken biscuits and fries in about 15 seconds before spending the rest of the day feeling like shit and with the worst scariest ever. Worst Sunday I’ve ever had.
Let’s break this down.
Expensive Uber: Check
Pass Out In Uber: Check
Puke In Uber: Check
Forgot Phone In Uber: Check
Yep, you did it all. Strong work.
Washington DC, Summer 2018: I was fresh out of 2L and in town for the national conference of a lawyer group I’m a part of.
Day one: the conference was great, and I made friends with a group of fellow-students from Akron. I played the “i interned in DC in college and know the cool bars” card, and we were off to the races. We had a lot of fun: We got caught up in the Capitols victory parade and spent the rest of the night drunk, chanting about hockey, and wandering the streets of DC.
Night two, me and my new crew went out again, and went very hard. At the end of the night I left my pals to meet up with a tinder girl who shared the same alma mater as me. We met up, talked, and the night ended with me getting the worst head of my life and no sex because it was that time of the month. Disappointed, but understanding, I closed my eyes at 5am, ubered back to the hotel for the conference at 7 (I had to staff events starting at 8:30, and panels and networking events scheduled until 8pm), and did a sink shampoo+facewash+ shave before I threw on a suit and dragged my hungover bones to starbucks, where I ran into our org's national president (a real, non-student lawyer).
Night three, I got in bed and wasn’t going to go out, but was hit with a wave of anxiety when my akron friends reached out. I answered the call and after a couple fishbowls at rowdy bars, we were plastered. I got some sexy pics from the tinder girl from the night before asking for sex. Horny and drunk, I ubered to her place. This time the head was shockingly great, and based from her snaps I fully thought I would get laid. I didn’t, and ubered back to the hotel at 5am, to hopefully sleep a bit before getting brunch at 10 with an old friend from college who moved to the city.
I woke up at 11:30, to stares from the hotel cleaning crew. They scurried out of the room when they saw me stirring, and I jolted out of bed. I had 30 missed calls and texts from my friend, and checkout for the room was at 11. I threw on the Hawaiian shirt I had on the night before, stuffed my suits in my bag, and sprinted out of the hotel, insanely hungover. I ended up walking to a shitty diner for breakfast with my akron crew, took a cab and was nearly late for my flight that afternoon, and made eye contact with a concerned-looking woman who watched me miss my mouth with the advil liquid gel i bought at the airport prior to boarding. I later found that crusted pill in the pocket of that shirt the following spring. Amazing weekend, but probably also the worst ever.
Sounds like your expectations were a little high and unrealistic regarding Tinder girl. Now call me crazy, but maybe “lawyer groups” aren’t the best places for random hookups. Or maybe they are. Or maybe they’re only good for random hookups if both parties are lawyers and not randos from Tinder. Again, I’m not sure—mainly because I’m not a lawyer and I don’t use Tinder.
“come back, i’m about to get in a fight.”
It was late, and I was back at my college alma mater with my two best friends from grad school. Me and [Alex] were at a bar across town when we got the text because [Jerry] told us to give him some space with a girl he’s had a crush on since high school. Turns out, this girl had a boyfriend, who did not take too kindly to Jerry chatting her up. We raced across town, and eventually found Jerry, who had to escape out the back of the bar past the bathrooms to avoid the guy and his friends.
After we got him back to the apartment, I hit the nearby convenience store to buy condoms. A girl i matched with on tinder told me to come over, and was about to send her address. I stuck around to make sure my friends were ok- The way alex tells it, the next thing he knew I was looming over him with a box of condoms in my hand. He (and i remember this part) didn’t move or open his eyes, and only said “please don’t touch me.”
I waited too long, and the girl unmatched me. I thought it was a good idea to hit facebook, search for girls in the area with her name who looked similar, and DM 8 of them “Sup” at 4am. I was so embarrassed the next morning i blocked all of them before they could see.
Alex passed out on the bed, leaving Jerry and I to sleep head to foot on the couch. Jerry and i got into an argument about who had a worse female experience, which woke up alex. The next morning, Jerry and I took a somber stroll around campus to recover then the three of us made the hungover 2 hour drive back to our home city.
Oh noooooooo. This story was fine until the Facebook thing came into play. Here’s some unsolicited advice to both the invested party and to anyone reading this: that is NOT THE MOVE. No one even checks Facebook anymore, man. Come on. Clean it up.
So I need to preface my story. My family has a beach house in NJ that I went back to in August for the first time in 2 years for my Dad’s birthday. My sister had recently turned 21, so my mom thinks it would be a fun idea for our family and some of our other friends, adults and 21+ year old ‘kids’, to go to this bar my dad likes in the Borgata casino to celebrate. Long story short we are buying margaritas and kamikaze shots (my sister’s idea) left and right using his card, and at some point in the night I hit the blackjack table with my friend, walk away $125 richer, go back to the bar my parents are at, and complete my blackout, during which time I sent a risky DM on the gram but who hasn’t done that before? I also think (again, I was blackout) I pissed in the middle of the living room at some point after getting home, but I don’t remember it so does it matter even if I did? My mom never called me out for it, so it’s whatever. I’d beat AC so it was a good night.
Fast forward to the following weekend when me and some friends decide to go to this bar in a beach town 30 minutes down the coast. Remembering the money I’d won last weekend, I get real generous, start getting drinks for my friends and some random people, and things start snowballing. Next thing I know, my friend is wanting to go to this other bar next door because they have a guy playing guitar my he really likes.
We go, and I swear I have never been in a place this crowded before in my life. It was a relatively smaller place, but I mean it when I say there was no room for anything. It was a 10 minute ordeal just for me to get to the men’s room and another 5 for me to wait in line. I get another drink (which I probably didn’t need), we hang for a bit longer, and then decide to head to the Wawa next door before the long uber back.
After getting some Reese’s cups, I realize I really have to pee again, and weirdly enough I don’t remember seeing a bathroom in the store I just walked out of. My friend says the uber is 5 minutes away, and I know there’s no way I can go back to bar to pee, so I decide to quickly run towards the beach and see if there isn’t a dark corner where I can take care of my business. My friends tell me not to because there are a bunch of cops around, but I’m drunk and don’t think I can hold it for 30 minutes in a car, so I make a run for it. I find a dark and secluded corner, check my surroundings, and begin to release. Not two seconds later, 2 cops round the corner near where I was, we make eye contact, and start pulling out their report sheets. That pee ended up costing $110, but at least they let me finish before writing me up. Long story short, it would have been better to ask the uber to pull-over if I’d really needed it. Oh, and Resse’s cups with Reese’s pieces inside are traaaaaaaaaash.
While I’m a big fan of peeing in the great outdoors, you have to understand the risk you take on when you do it in a populated area. Especially when you KNOW cops are around. $110 actually isn’t terrible considering most of us would’ve found ourselves on the sex offenders list.
After doing some research, it's a little over a year since I last recounted some tales with you, so it's (kinda) good to be back. This story is from a month ago when I was in New Orleans for a fraternity brother's bachelor party, which in and of itself can be a story, but there are two messy occasions that I want to highlight.
Occasion One: I get in with a few other guys early in the evening on Thursday (had about 20 guys total and we stayed till Sunday), completely disregarding food, and instead opting for alcohol after having not eaten much that day due to excitement of our shenanigans ahead. After most of us have gotten in and had our fair share of Yuenglings and other beverages, we head to Bourbon Street and bounce around several places. At some point, we land on a place where you can get a huge Hurricane with a good one or two pounds of sliced fruit in it that we split. As fate would have it, I eventually black out and I presume I am told I should go back to the Airbnb about 15 min. away. I black back in in the backseat of an Uber one of the other three people in the car got, where I realize I have my head out the window puking all over the interstate and side of this white car. Back at the house, my friend thinks I got punched in the face and had dried blood on me, but it was just Hurricane puke. Whoops. Thanks, bud. Fortunately, nobody got hit with a cleanup fee, otherwise I would've felt even worse.
Occasion Two: On Saturday, we go back into town and do some exploring of the French Quarter and whatnot, then land at Lafitte for a few hours. I had already been there Friday afternoon as well, but I'm a huge history nerd that won't turn down beer at a bar from the 1700s. After several Dixie beers are consumed, we head elsewhere and I somewhat loose track of the afternoon until I am back at the Airbnb. Not too many people are back or they are napping, so I kinda had the whole upstairs to myself, which ended up being very key. I go to the bathroom to shower and freshen up for the night, and as soon as I close the door, I projectile vomit all over the bathroom door and floor. I stand there in shock and awe trying to calculate my next move. It turns out, that next move is to go sit on the toilet for about 30 minutes fading in and out of sleep. Finally my senses kick in and I remember I need to clean the vomit off the door and floor. No paper towels in sight, but there are about 50 washcloths and a bottle of scrubbing bubbles in the closet. The cleanup was surprisingly easy, but those washcloths were likely not too happy with me.
I was doing so well at not puking in my 26th year of life up until that weekend.
That's where the story ends since the rest is just being hungover as shit at the airport on Sunday morning, but our fraternity brother is getting married this coming weekend, so I will likely have something good to follow-up with.
I’ve only been to New Orleans once, but here are my short list of rules for being there:
ONLY go when the weather is below 75 degrees. Otherwise it’s going to smell like literal shit. Probably because the streets are covered in literal shit.
You’re allowed one (1) Hurricane per trip, and you shouldn’t even finish it. Do it for the ‘gram, take a few sips, and get out. The hangover is never worth it.
Travel in groups. Whether it’s a drunk person or a homeless person, you’re going to get verbally harassed. Strength in numbies.
Other than that, have at it.
So jumping right into things, I’m from Boston and a friend and I decided that we were in the mood to get out of the city for a weekend so we booked a long weekend to Chicago. We landed on Friday morning and almost immediately started drinking. Nothing crazy, but we steadily drank throughout the day. Fast forward to about 6PM we get to this rooftop bar. By this point we had come off our buzz a little bit after checking into our hotel, showering etc.
So we decided to get a shot of tequila and an aperol spritz to rev things back up. The bartender hands us our shot and Aperol spritz. We immediately take the shot. As the bartender turns around to run the card I see my friend gag. In my head I’m like “ok ok no big deal that was a tough shot” (it was warm). But then, I see her spit into a napkin a little bit so I feel like I need to ask “hey are you ok?” Her: “Yes, fine I just needed to get that taste out of my mouth” two seconds later she spits up the shot ON THE BAR. Somehow no one sees except me.
My friend quickly grabs a stack of napkins and cleans it up just before the bartender hands her back her card. At this point I say “ok lets get out of here” Her refusing: “No I promise I’m ok the shot didn’t settle well. Now that I got it up I’m ok”
So we’re standing out on the deck area of the bar for about one minute when all of a sudden my friend looks me in the eye.. IN THE EYE ..and projectile vomits all over MY FACE. This is not an exaggeration. We were standing less than an arms length away from one another so there was severe splatter. There was vomit dripping off my face down my chest and all over my white shirt. Let me also tell you that I do not handle anything having to do with vomit well. Since I was little I was the kid that was puking on the bus because another kid was puking …and let me tell you not much has changed since. Thankfully, I was able to stay pretty composed and ran her down to the bathroom where she continued to throw up.
Best part, she later asked me to venmo her for the tequila and aperol drinks that she bought.
We get through the night and into the next day. I was determined to not let the events of last night ruin today so we kind of just ignored the awkwardness and went about our scheduled activities. We get back to our hotel bar where my friend meets a handsome man that lives in the hotel. Did someone say red flag?? Anyways, she’s sitting in the middle of me and this new man friend at the bar and keeps her back to me for about an hour before she decides to tell me that she’s going to leave for a motorcycle ride around the city with her new friend.
Next morning, our flight. Yes, we took the early flight THANK GOD. I needed to get away from her. I even sneakily switched my seat so I didn’t have to sit next to her even though that meant that I had to sit in the window (I’m more of an aisle girl).
In the middle seat of my row is a very large man, so large that he can’t fit without putting both arm rests up. So, he’s literally overflowing into my area and we are arm to arm. I really can’t not touch this guy unless I’m pressed against the wall of the plane. I’m on my way to full panic at this point. Just when I think that it can’t get any worse, the pilot comes over the intercom to announce that there is a malfunction and they need to replace a part and we’re going to have to wait for the part to arrive.
Here is it. Panic attack. I start sweating, bad. I’m hyperventilating. My heart feels like its going to beat out of my chest and honestly just feel like I’m going to die. Oh, and big middle seater is already passed out. Fat chance that I could ever get by him, pun intended.
I talked myself down and after two hours on the tarmac I made it back to Boston alive.
I… I’m somewhat speechless. It’s amazing that we live in a world where puking on someone’s face isn’t the most outrageous part of a story. But to charge you for the drinks that SHE threw up on YOUR face? The AUDACITY. I hope you aren’t speaking to this girl anymore because she’s got red flags all over the place. Let us know if she’s still in contact with hotel motorcycle guy, though.
To preface I'm freshly out of a 2 year long relationship and have just moved to a brand new city for work. After two to three weeks of allowing myself to wallow in self-pity my friends finally convinced me to go on my first casual date to a night out in the city. Things were going well, she was pretty and we were having a good time just drinking and making to most of things. I actually found myself starting to have a good time, and then it happened. Unexpectedly from the depths of hell out of her mouth she began to spew. I'm talking chunks, all over me. Ended up having to get an overpriced hotel to shower and try not to smell, the new shirt I wore is ruined, she stayed in the hotel with me but I got a two bedroom hotel room and we slept in separate beds where she began to snore for the entire night. So now its Sunday, I havent slept, my clothes smell like throw up, I had to check out of the hotel in the same disheveled clothes I checked in and I probably went way over budget for the month. Send help.
WHY IS EVERYONE PUKING ALL OVER EVERYONE. PLEASE STOP.
This past weekend I went on camping/brewery tour trip for a friend’s birthday. Aside from the slight hangover Sunday morning, the five of us were ready to trek back to Columbus from the cabin. As we start driving home the car starts smoking. We call AAA and get a tow. But the tow truck would only take two out of the five of us. So an hour and a half and $176 Lyft ride later we made it home. Today is also the first night of Rosh Hashanah and I’m hosting dinner at my apartment. The brisket needs a minimum of 3 hours to cook and it’s 3:00 PM and guests arrive at 6:30. Thoughts and prayers would be appreciated.
You know this week’s crop of stories are bad when I breathed a breath of fresh air at a $173 Lyft. I’m just glad no one puked on your face.
See everyone next week. Be safe out there.