You know it's funny, I'm racking my brain trying to think of black out occasions, and I'm coming up blank. Except for this one time, when I got raped in New Zealand. Funny story. So I was there on a work practicum, and when it was ending, it dawned on me I never went to a strip club my entire time there, so for my last night out my workmates took me to Showgirls (I believe it was called). This is where my last solid memory ends, which was good because those strippers were awesome. My last, slightly clear memory was this tiny Kiwi blonde coming off the stage and laying across mine and another guy's lap in perv row. I remember looking down at her supple breasts, barely thinking, "this is weird. What's stopping me from copping a feel?". Then I looked up and saw two of the hugest bouncers staring right at me. Anyways, I got kicked out not because I touched, but because, I'm told, I was making out with an older, totally NON-milf, soon-to-be ex-coworker. My next memory is her smothering me in the cab back to her place. I say smothering because I was breathing out my mouth and her tongue/hairy upper lip was stopping me. My next memory, and personal favourite part of the story, is sitting on her couch with her blowing me. I distinctly remember her saying "I want you to cum in my mouth", because that was the first time a girl told me that. My reaction? I flat out laughed at her and said, "you really think I can cum right now?" Then I squeezed her tits too hard and she said "does it feel good when I squeeze your cock like this?" My reaction? "I don't know. I can't feel much of anything." Somehow we ended upstairs in her room, and I don't discount that she either carried or dragged me. I wake up with one of my all time worst hangovers (even to this day, eight years later), look over at her giant, pudgy ass, hold back puke, grab my South Park boxers, and as I'm heading to the bathroom she says, "I have people coming over in a half hour, you better get going." I look at her hairy back, insulted, and almost say, "yeah, like I really wanna stay here." I reach the bathroom, puke, look at my eyes in the mirror, and then look down and see...it. My condom-covered dick (thankfully, though I have no idea how that happened), along with my stomach and thighs, are drenched in dark period blood. I wash up, puke once more and don't even wait inside her house for the cab, utterly disgusted with myself in the hot New Zealand sun. A few years before that, a friend and I heard some news story about some guy claiming rape. We couldn't understand how it was possible. I discovered one way, on that fateful Auckland night. Oh to be 19 again.
The first year or two after I turned 21, I would go to a bar, drink a ridiculous amount of whiskey, black out, and each time, I would progressively wake up in a stranger place, with no recollection of how I got there. The first time this happened, I woke up on somebody's lawn, about a mile away from the bars I was at, in the opposite direction of my apartment. It sucked, but plenty of people have done that I'm sure. The next time, I went to a bunch of bars for my friends 21st birthday. Same shit happens, I drink way too much some how get split up from all my friends, and black out. Next thing I know, it's 6 AM, and I wake up in a car. Which wouldn't be the craziest thing, except it's not my car. And it's not any of my friends cars. And I'm in the drivers seat. To this day, I'm not exactly sure how or why I was in that car. It was the same type of car as my friend who's birthday it was though, so my guess is that I saw a mustang parked on the street, and automatically assumed it must of been my friends car, so I just opened it up, jumped in and went to sleep. Thank god whoever's car it actually was didn't try to drive somewhere before I woke up, because they would of found a passed out college kid sleeping in their drivers seat. That may have been a little hard to explain. A couple months later, because I'm retarded and can't help myself, I decide it would be a great idea to go get fucked up at some bars with my friends again. I start drinking Jack and Cokes like they're going out of style, figuring what's the worst that can happen? Sure enough, once again I lose all my friends, go off on my own, and completely black out. When I finally come to, I'm face down in an apartment I've never seen before, being handcuffed by police. Needless to say, I am beyond confused at what the fuck is going on. The cop was literally laughing at me as he took me to the station, asking if I knew what I had done. I had no clue. But after talking to the cop, and my friends later on, I was able to figure out what happened. Apparently I was trying to walk home from the bars, but I was so drunk that I didn't know how to find my apartment (it was maybe a quarter mile from the bars). So I just walked up to an apartment complex, found a door that opened, and figured that since the door was open, it must be my apartment. So I walked in and passed out on the floor. Whoever the hell lived there woke up, and found my drunk ass passed out on the floor, and called the cops. I'm just glad I didn't walk into the wrong house, I easily could of ended up getting the shit kicked out of me. So yeah, waking up in a random house is not something I want to experience again. Luckily they only gave me a night in the drunk tank, and I didn't get charged with like breaking and entering, which I'm sure they could have done.
I haven't been blackout drunk in a while, thankfully. The last time was a couple months ago with my best friend. I finally figured out how to pee in public without peeing on myself. I ate Taco Bell. I hurled said Taco Bell out the window. I may have gone to another bar. I woke up the next morning at home with my car still intact and no memory of turning off the highway, onto side streets, into my neighborhood, or into my driveway. A couple weekends ago, The Boy and some friends blacked out in D.C. after drinking from beer pong cups that weren't theirs. Boy smashed his face into the concrete a couple times. I wasn't there yet, but I got to see the aftermath:
One time I woke up with $400.00 missing, and my shoes, shirt, and shorts undone in a hotel room. Most of the time when I blackout I just end up doing something a little bit stupid, like lock myself out of my barracks room and then try to elbow in the window to get back in. Didn't work, elbow was sore for awhile. Me and a bunch of my buddies in my platoon decided to drive from Camp Pendleton down to San Diego State University for a party. We stocked up my car with 2 cases of bear and started driving. Half way down two of the guys going (they knew each other since grade school, and entered the military on the buddy system) found out a friend from home committed suicide. Only two cars were driving down to San Diego and one had to turn around and go back to base since one of the guys was drunk and crying hysterically. We get down to San Diego and find out the party was cancelled for some reason, ether that or the guy giving directions was too drunk already to remember the correct address. So instead we go to a liquor store and buy a half gallon of Popov vodka. We got it because it was cheap, and soon found out why it was so cheap. No matter what you mix the shit with it will always taste like rubbing alcohol. We got a hotel room and headed out to a strip club. Before we go I start drinking a lot of the Popov mixed with some fruit juice to dilute the horrible taste. My buddy calls a shuttle bus since we have all been drinking. The shuttle bus was ran by this man who looked like one of the inbred killers from The Hills Have Eyes. The bus was full of other military people getting rides to various strip clubs and bars. On the bus was a big bottle of Hypnotic that me and my friend just started chugging. By the time I got to the strip club I was hammered, and to make a longer story short being in a strip club near base hammered is a bad idea if your military. At this point I was in auto pilot mode and barley remember anything. I do remember my buddy saying "Hey dude I got some girls coming over to the hotel room to party, I got $400.00 right here, go pull $400.00 out of your checking account." At the time I did not connect strippers and $400.00 as prostitution. By the time we get back to the hotel room all I remember is my buddy saying "the girls will be here soon" and drinking a beer. Next day: I'm laying on a bed with my shirt and shoes off. My shorts are undone. My wallet has no money in it. Me: "What the fuck happened?" Buddy: "What do you mean 'what happened?'" Me: "Dude why is all my shit off or ether missing?" Turns out we solicited prostitutes in the strip club. I blacked out in the hotel room with the beer. My buddy said when the girls got there I pointed to one and said "Bitch, get me a beer" which she actually did, even though I had a full one in my hand. Later that night he said she had taken off my shirt while I was comatose in a chair and started trying to fuck me. I don't know what she looks like, her name, her fake stripper name, nothing. Never remember seeing her once. The good thing is the Marine Corp does blood draws and checks for HIV on a regular basis.
I have had two blackouts: 1) Varedero, Cuba- Night of my 1st wedding anniversary My girl and I kicked off our anniversary well- Tenderloin/Lobster dinner at a beach side restaraunt, mojitos by the pool after, then we went to our resort's nightclub, and the rest was history. We started slamming mojitos and rum/punch like it was all or nothing, and my wife can go toe-to-toe with me on a bad night. I remember demanding to the DJ that he play more Michael Jackson, and then woke up with one leg up on the bed and the rest on the floor, my wife laughing at me. In my blackout, the club we were in had wheeled ottomans and I was running with a full head of steam at them, then jumping on them and "skimboarding" across the dancefloor with North Shore surfer-skill, drink always still in hand. I did this at least twenty times and apparently gained quite the temporary fan club, most cheering for me to bail which I did in grand style into the speaker column at Mach 2, which explained the painful contusion on my arm. 2) Acapulco 2000: My first blackout ever happened at a bar called Blackbeards where they had an actual live baby lion leashed to the front door like a pet housecat. Rum punches were one american dollar and it was that joyfully famous 3 for 1 Acapulco Happy hour, and I slammed 15 in 15 minutes. Goodnight, Irene. I was told I was swinging from the rafters (literally, it was a low ceiling), jumping off P.A. columns and clicking my heels together, buying local 12 year old kids off the sidewalk shots of Mezcal, and hanging off any woman on the dancefloor like a locust swarm. Because I'm not a small guy, they hired some big friendly Mexican dude to fireman-carry me back to my room because I was utterly gibbled whilst smacking me in the face really hard and yelling "FAG!!!", where I promptly threw my friend out of the bathroom bouncer-style (He ran outside threw up off the balcony) and vomited up flourescent red and orange shit until dawn.
I'm going through a phase, I'll call it my mid-life crisis, where I'm drinking far more than I did in college, due to the following: A) More money B) My own house C) Stress relief Last Saturday, while ya'll were posting on the drinking thread, I was hanging out with a couple of guys I've known for 30 years and tossing back shots and beers. The Mrsanthropic, gem that she is, drove my sorry ass home. I remember exactly 3 minutes of that trip, although I apparently conversed with her from time to time between passing out.
I black out less and less as I become more mature and experienced, however I still have a phase in my drinking my friends refer to as 'bail time', in which no matter what I am doing at the time, once I have reached my threshold for that night I will just leave and go home. Countless times I have had conversations the next day similar to: "Dude, we were in the middle of having an indepth talk about politics/religion/baby sea otters and you just stopped talking and walked away, no one saw you for the rest of the night!" However two stories that I guess meet the focus happened during my trip to the USA in November 09. I spoilered these as they are fairly long, I will provide cliffs for those who don't want to read the whole thing. Vegas: Spoiler The first happened in Vegas. The day started pretty standard, drinks by the pool, drinks by the tables, drinks on the strip. After a long day of exploring and steadily knocking back Corona's, we walked into the Flamingo and I had a $1.1k win on a slot machine. I took this as a sign that the night would be magical... How right and wrong I was. We kicked off the night in the worst possible way. Margaritaville. Synonymous with middle aged women and rocket fuel grade tequila. I ordered 3 of their biggest margaritas, which turned out to be these gigantic cups which were at least 2 foot long. Over the course of the night, before blackout I have the following vague memories: *Run $500 up to $30k playing craps (carny bets FTW) and lose it all back. CHECK *Pay one of those Mexican guys who hands out the hooker cards $100 for his whole bundle and then throw them in the air lottery style. CHECK *Attempt to jump the railing and board the pirate ship at Treasure Island. CHECK *Run $1k through the $100 slot at Circus Circus. CHECK I woke up the next morning, in the bathtub naked wearing a cowboy hat. Of the approx $50k I won and lost over the course of the night, I had $4.87 left, I remember because I was .08c short of a footlong sub. I wont even go into how I won a poker tourney at the Orleans the next night for $2k and dropped it all, by myself at the strip club across the road. (Seamless) CLIFFS: * Drank huge margaritas * Won and lost huge amounts of cash * Did some stupid things * Woke up naked in a bathtub wearing a cowboy hat The other worthwhile blackout story from that trip occured in Nashville. Spoiler It was the day before we flew out, so we decided to make it a night to remember. We spent much of the day at Coyote Ugly, downing body shot after body shot. We were the only customers for much of the day, and the girls had really taken a shine to us 'Osssies' (It is pronounced OZZY!!!!!!!!!!!) and were looking after us well. After a solid 6 hours of drinking at the bar, we went to Hooters and grabbed some wings and $1 beers. 5-6 beers later we headed down to Broadway and went bar to bar, knowing full well where the night was heading, then blatantly disregarding the fact that we had to be at the airport by noon. We ended up at The Stage, a big country bar. We decided that tequila was wasted in the bottle and belonged in our stomachs aaaand thats where I check out for the night. From what my friends helped me piece together, we did about 5 shots of tequila each and headed for the dancefloor. Apparently I am a terrible country dancer and largely just walk in circles stomping one foot and waving one elbow in and out while yelling 'YEEEEEHAAAAAAA!!!!'. I know, I know, all class. At some point I made the transition to dancing the Robot, which earned me a circle of admirers (in my mind), watching the drunken Australian jerk around quasi-robotically. I then started kissing some girl on the dancefloor and that was the last my friends saw of me that night. Cue to them waking up about 10am to finish packing, cursing the night before, when they realise I am not in the hotel room and my phone is off. They panic for a while until I give them a call from an unknown number and fill them in. It seems that my charms were too much for the poor girl to resist and she had to have me right away. Then in a dubious decision we decided to go to her place, instead of my empty hotel room which was literally 500m away (Sheraton). Turns out her place was actually 25 miles out of Nashville. She drove me back (via Waffle House) to the hotel and we made it in time for our flight. (which was horrendous, we booked our itinerary in a hurry and ended up giving ourselves a 36 hour travel from Nashville to Adelaide, ewww) Turns out the girl I slept with is the sister of Backstreet Boy, Nick Carter. I guess she couldn't resist my 'Got Crabs?' t-shirt. (Joe's Crab Shack, you will not regret it) CLIFFS: * Drank heaps at Coyote Ugly * Drank a bit at Hooters * Lots of tequila * Robot dancing at country bar * Woke up 25 miles out of Nashville 2 hours before I needed to be at airport * Slept with Backstreet Boys sister Best trip of my life, planning on coming back this November and hitting up Nashville again, NY, Boston and maybe Niagra.
I have a couple of particular incidents that stand out above others when me being blacked out comes to mind. I can drink all day at a steady rate and consume more than any normal man and be fine but if I start drinking too quickly then things get hazy. I caught up with some friends around 18 and at some stage in the night I got up off the couch said to them you can't catch me and then ran down the street. That night ended up in me being arrested filling the back of their wagon and then being in the recover position unconscious on my grandmothers front lawn throwing up and waking up in the morning a box of birds none the wiser. Army recruit course march out night I was found wandering through the middle of the local town shirtless, shoeless and soaking wet after apparently throwing up in a taxi and being refused entry on the bus. The cops took me home and someone signed me in undressed me and put me to bed. Woke up in the morning and a mate said sorry to me. Asked him what for and he told me that I had thrown up on him the night before and his instant reaction was to knock me out one hit. Didn't even feel a thing the next morning. About a year and a half ago on the piss with mates for a national holiday my memory ended around 2pm and later that night apparently I said to a mate I'm just going over there to pat that snake which happened to be a run over but still very alive taipan, one of the ten deadliest snakes in the world. That ended with me and my mate wrestling or should I say him dragging me around on the ground by my tie until the snake was removed. Plenty of other funny and silly stupid shit, never been hurt or in any kind of big trouble just wake up the next morning and all my friends think I'm funny as hell.
Let's start with the funny: -We were playing beirut in some basement and I was totally gone. According to other onlookers, I suddenly left the table, mid-game, and went up the stairs, out the back door, and down the patio steps into the yard. I then started projectile vomiting as I calmly walked in a large semi-circle in the lawn. As I began to turn back to the house, I stopped puking--having miraculously gotten none of it on my shirt or face--wiped my lips, hawked a hearty loogie, stole some girl's beer who was sitting in the backyard watching my regurgitative pyrotechnics, and chugged the rest of it in front of her as she looked on with disgust. I then slammed the beer can into my forehead, apparently in an attempt to crush it, thus displaying my unquestionable manhood so that everyone around would know that I had claimed the girl as my own. The can only slightly crumpled and I was left with a perfect circular bruise on my face, which served as the only evidence of my actions when I went back downstairs to finish the game. The not-so-funny: To keep this short, there were a few mornings where I'd wake up back in my bed and later ask my roommate how we got home the night before from our friend's place, some 5 miles away through backroads--some of which were no more than widened dirt paths. He'd look at me and laugh, saying that I had driven home. I had no clue. Luckily, no one ever got hurt.
Went to my friends party whose house happened to back on to a lake. Drank a bottle of Captain Mo far too quickly and proceeded to time travel to my bed with no recollection how ive got there, with clothes on the floor that werent mine and without my phone or wallet. Called a buddy of mine, turns out that I ended up in the lake half holding on to the dock screaming for help before someone finally found me. Noone knew how long I had been in there as they all thought I had left. Got changed by my friend's sister passed out on her couch and got driven home by her parents. The smell of rum now causes me to feel incredibly ill. Another time after far too many vodka bombs it seems I felt it was a good idea to jump down a flight of stairs and proceeded to crack my skull open off the top of the ceiling. Refused to go to get stiches because I had no desire to have a shaved head and just had friends wrap gauze around my head and ended up passing out in my room
I don’t generally black-out, and when I do its pretty boring. I just wake up in bed and don’t remember going to bed, brushing my teeth, etc. There is one time about 9 years ago however that stands out, and it didn’t even involve that much booze. I had just started my design company and times were booming, which meant long hours. On this particular Friday one of my customers had set a hard deadline for noon to release all the files to the various machine/sheetmetal shops. In order to achieve this I had to pull an all nighter, working from 9 am the previous day till 11’ish on Friday. 26 hours of sitting at the computer, designing and doing CAD drawings. I managed to release all the files before the deadline, and headed home in a semi-catatonic state. The wife and I were supposed to head up to my mother’s cottage later that day once she got home from work, so I figured I’d crash for a bit and catch up on my sleep. But a weird thing happened; I couldn’t sleep. I was utterly exhausted, my eyes felt like they were on fire, but sleep would not come. After an hour of staring at the ceiling I figured I may as well get up and get the car packed, which I did. A few hours later the wife gets home, changes, and we head up to the cottage. I thought I might get some shut-eye in the car, but again this strange insomnia plagued me for the hour and a half drive up. We get there, get unpacked, grab some drinks, and head out to the front deck. At this point I am approaching 33 hours without sleep. The last thing I remember is being about half way thru my first beer. I wake up. It’s completely dark; absolutely pitch black. I am not in a bed. I do not know where I am. I sit up and just sit there for a couple minutes, stunned. I have never felt so disoriented in my life as I did in that moment. It is so dark that I have no visual clues as to my location at all, just blackness everywhere I look. After a few minutes I notice that I can feel grass under my palms. From this I surmise that I inexplicably outside somewhere which confuses me even more. Next, I realize that I can hear water quietly lapping to my left. Now I’m totally baffled. I remember thinking "What the fuck is going on?!" Still sitting there, I start mentally backtracking the events of the day to see if I can figure out what has happened and where I am. “I left work, went home, waited for the wife, packed the car to go to the cott….shit! I’m outside at the cottage!” It took me about 5 minutes to reach that conclusion. From the grass and the direction of the sound of water, I had a rough idea of where I was in relation to the cottage, so I get up and start tentatively walking towards where I think it is. Arms out in front of me, palming the dark, I feel around blindly, for a couple minutes until I manage to locate the side of the cottage. From there I was able to follow the wall to the corner, and then follow this adjacent wall to where I knew the door was. Locating the door, I open it and turn on the light switch to finally bring some light to the situation. The wife was sleeping in bed, so I woke her up and gave her shit thinking she had left me outside. Turns out that after my last recollection, I had 2 more beers, watched the sun set on the lake, went in and watched part of a movie, told her I was tired, and we went to bed. At some point I apparently got up, slept-walked my way outside, and fell back asleep by the water.
The only times I ever had black-out episodes (and this was the same for my drinking cohorts) was when we did shots of Jager, which was often (often being defined as "daily"). I'm not really sure if we pulled any stunts, but we apparently frequently made plans for the next day with someone from the bar and the next day, had no recollection of even seeing said person at the bar, let alone making plans with him/her. We all received many an angry phone call from someone at a golf course at the tee box on the first hole wondering where the hell we were. I'm not sure what's in that stuff, but its the only liquor that ever gave me black-outs. Passing out is another story.
This following event is based largely off eyewitness testimony, who would not relent from a single detail for about two weeks after this had happened. I had done about eight tequila shots with my buddy Don before arriving at a party hosted by an acquaintance at his fraternity. We had a few shooters on the way and were pretty much blasted by the time we got there. It wasn't our first choice of entertainment, but tequila makes poor choices into great stories. We immediately began being socially drunk and stumbling about, Don dancing while I sat on the sidelines and stood swaying while talking to some friends not nearly as drunk as myself. I was in sight of the rest of the group the whole time, so there's little chance for me meeting anyone outside the room we are in, but after about ten minutes a rather large girl walks into our circle and casually stood next to me for a few minutes. Everyone assumed she knew one of us because she didn't say anything but just stood there without anyone paying particular notice to her. I leaned towards her and the rest of the group to get my cup off of a table and suddenly, I'm a a death grip of a manatee, whose tongue is moving along my neck, towards my mouth, probably to harvest my soul. My friend described me as standing as I was chatting, one hand stretched out and one in my pocket, pushed against the wall with a look of terror on my face. He did what anyone would do and laughed his ass off. I reeled back as she moved up my neck and I spat out something to the effect of "I have a girlfriend". This cued an onslaught of man-hating rhetoric into my face that went over the loud music. She hit me in the chest as I sat dazed by my rapid molestation that was quickly turning into character judgement by a complete stranger in front of a room full of people. The less-drunk friend of mine ushered her out the door and she apparently stormed off.