It happens to even the most seasoned drinkers. There comes a point in which that last cocktail starts to put a haze over the evening from which there is no escape. What happened? Where am I? Are those my pants?
How exactly does one deal with a blackout?
There isn’t much you can do once you have gotten yourself as drunk as a roofied sorority girl but you can take precautions to minimize the damage.
Keeping yourself in good company can make or break a night. Friends who have your best interest at heart will let you call a few girls slutty but pull you out of the bar by the time their boyfriends come around. This decreases your chance of waking up covered in blood or with your nose at a slightly different angle than the day before.
Online banking and debit cards are like low jack for forgotten nights. You got recipts, along with a scatter plot of bars you were probably at. So, if you think you have lost something or if there was some girl who just really tickled your fancy, you know where to go back to.
Hide your fucking keys. Hide them. Seriously, put those bastards in locked safe that only accepts a B.A.C. of zero as the password. No one needs to drive drunk. Ever.
If you manage to achieve getting black out drunk you’re probably belligerent, meaning you’re going to piss someone off. We can’t be everyone’s friend. Shit happens. If they don’t like you, fuck em.
I had a night that I managed to salvage a few pieces from. One of the last things I remembered was walking up to the bar and seeing a pack of young girls flirting with the overweight 50 something bartender. Me in all my wasted glory thought it would be clever to walk up and say “You know they’re not going to fuck you right?”. Needless to say I was asked to leave.
I almost forgot! CAMERA PHONES. Photo evidence of what happened… After getting kicked out of that bar I decided to take a stroll around the block before phoning my friends to let them know where I was. I remembered pissing outside and laughing hysterically. That didn’t make sense until I looked at my photo album. I had 4 blurry flash pictures of a cop car.
I pissed on a cop car.
My acquaintances informed me that we rendezvoused on a street corner and they escorted me home. Not everyone will be so lucky to have people get them safely to their bed with their shoes off.
The Morning After:
You just successfully time traveled 6-12 hours. It’s nothing to write Stephen Hawking about but you managed to do it. Congrats.
How are your surroundings? Are you in bed, on a couch, on the floor, in a bathtub? Are your pants wet? Are you wearing pants?
In the event of surprise nudity there is one option that always goes over well. You need to find a bed sheet (soiled or unsoiled), towel, curtain, any large flowey piece of fabric. Got it? You now have yourself a toga. It doesn’t matter what you were wearing. You are now the life of the party, even the morning after.
In the event that you wake up next to someone/something you didn’t plan on waking up next to, slink out as quietly as you can and never look back. If they’re already awake the best way to deal is to over compensate.
“What a perfect night.”
“I think I love you.”
“Is gay marriage legal in this state? If not we need to move.”
“Did you see my sores? Will you stay?”
Commitment is the fastest way out of an unwanted situation. Everyone runs away from it, like sane people near a Justin Bieber concert.
So when you finally come out of your haze, wrap that toga, check your bank statement, phone a friend and go grab yourself a Bloody Mary. You survived another day. Stay reckless my friends.