Blacking Out in New York City

On August 28, 2013 by Kim Wetter

My friend Derek did a guest post about a year back about his visit to New York. At the time, I promised that I would eventually share my own story, as it has a lot of similar themes, but I never did. I’m making good on that promise now:

It was 4 years ago and I was visiting my friend Tom. The second night was supposed to be our “quiet night in.” I’m never very good at those. I had taken to text flirting a beautiful girl I knew from college all the way through my drunken first evening in the Big City, so I decided to leave my cell phone at Tom’s apartment for the evening, just to be safe.

At dinner, they had vodka red bull specials and shot of jager specials. So Tom and I dropped our jager shots into our vodka red bulls and chugged them as if they were jager bombs. This was dinner.

jager-bomb

When we got back from dinner, Tom really wanted to play the Roxanne drinking game. That’s where one team drinks every time they say “Roxanne” and the other team drinks whenever you hear “Red Light.” It’s a LOT of drinks over a short period of time… and we only had hard alcohol, no mixers.

By the time we decided it was a good idea to go to the bar across the street for a “quick drink,” we were both hammered. I then blacked out.

I “came to” walking the frozen streets of New York City. I started to take stock of myself. No phone but I knew where that was. I had a cut in my jeans. I reached back for my wallet and it was no where to be found.

oh-fuck-morgan-freeman

I was completely lost with no way to reach Tom and no Tom in sight. I walked for as long as I could, in what I thought was the right direction but it was really, really cold. I decided that I was going to hop in a cab. When he pulled up to Tom’s apartment, I quickly opened the door and looked back to say, “I’m so sorry, I lost my wallet. Let me run upstairs and my friend will pay you.” They probably get that a lot. The cabbie started swearing at me and flipping me off so I ran to the safety of the doorman. I went up the elevator to Tom’s floor and when the doors opened…

I saw Tom, passed out on the floor outside the door of his apartment with a small pile of vomit next to him. I get him up and get him into the apartment. I was hammered and on overload. I just immediately went to the air mattress and passed out.

emily-500-percent-done

When Tom woke up for work late, he started swearing at me, telling me I had left him last night and he went looking for me. I had to stop him and say, “Whoa, do you know where I found you last night? On the floor in a pile of your own vomit.”

He doesn’t believe me so he looks outside the door of his bedroom and says, “See, nothing there!”

I didn’t know how to break this to him so I said it slowly. I said, “No Tom, open your front door.”

As soon as he opened it, I could hear him curse aloud.

What happened to us? Neither of us really knew. Tom had no details other than a memory that I was gone and he was looking for me but he also remembers being in the cellar of a Schwarma restaurant. We really don’t know…

It all worked out though. Tom and I are very skilled at convincing people to do things or at least distracting people enough so they forget to ask for ID. I never got turned away.

Near the end of my trip, I had an old friend come to hang out. When she arrived, I made it very, very clear that she should not try to keep up in drinking with Tom and I. It was just the three of us so I knew she’d feel pressure to keep our pace. Evidently, I was not as clear as I hoped.

Tom went off because he met a guy so it was just her and I and I could tell she was blacked out. Some guy was hitting on her and clearly thought he was getting laid that night so I decided I needed to rescue her and take her home. She could barely put on her jacket so there was no way I was letting her leave with that creep.

When I tell her we need to leave, she pushes me away and goes, “Get your hands off me! I’m not a lesbian!”

oh-hell-to-the-no

After getting over my own anger, I finally get her in a cab. On our ride, she opens her door as the cab is moving. I quickly jump across to shut the door and she fights a bit claiming, “I have to pee!” Okay, honey, but jumping out of a moving cab is not a great idea… ever.

We finally get back to the apartment and I let her have the bed because I know Tom wont’ be back and I’d been sleeping on the air mattress all week. In the morning, she makes a weirdly quick exit. I figured she was embarrassed and possibly really hung over so I just said goodbye, without thinking anything of it.

Eventually, I get up from the air mattress to sleep in Tom’s bed until he gets back and quickly realize that she had peed in the bed… Peed in the bed and then just left. Tom came home right right around then and we had a mutual WTF moment. Tom and I may do a lot of stupid shit but we always own up to our actions. I don’t understand people that don’t deal with their own shit, or pee, as the case may be. You take care of the mess you’ve made. Always.

It’s probably not surprising to learn I haven’t been back to New York since. I think both Tom and I know the two of us together is a dangerous combination and we have to plan my next trip carefully. Possibly with vacation days and multiple ids and debit cards stashed in safe places. Tom, however, is coming to visit me here in Seattle in a couple months. And I think we’ll both make an agreement to never have a “quite night in” ever, ever again.

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