by James Gallimore
I was not particularly brilliant in my younger days. My days used to be measured in degrees of drunkenness. Sunday? Well, I have work tomorrow, but there’s football, so I can only get medium drunk. Of course, there were holidays that warranted excessive consumption and one St. Patrick’s Day is seared into my mind as having been particularly embarrassing.
I had not slept the night before and decided to go downtown with a coworker around noon. We proceeded to quickly consume seven offensively named shots involving dark beer and whiskey and things immediately became hazy. I have always been a magician when I’ve reached a certain level of intoxication and the disappearing act was my specialty.
The next thing I remember, I was attempting to jump the fence of the parking lot of my friend’s downtown apartment complex. Let it be known that I did not have any intention of driving but wanted to get something out of my car. This was a feat that I had successfully accomplished many times before, but alcohol tends not to enhance athleticism. On this particular occasion, my foot got caught on the top of the fence and I toppled over it, hitting my face on the ground on the other side, destroying my sunglasses in the process. When I stumbled over to my car, a gentleman from the street, who had presumably seen the entire thing, yelled “You’re not driving, are you!?” to which I responded that I was not.
The next thing I remember, I was laying pants-less on my friend’s bathroom floor while he used wet cotton balls to wipe blood from my face. I woke up later that night in a daze, having no idea what time or day it was. I put on some sports and went back to sleep.
When I woke up the next morning, my friend explained what little he could about what had happened. I left his apartment and tried to find the lenses to my broken glasses to no avail.
When I arrived back at the dorms, I was filled in about the activities from the night before there. One of my friends had been rushed to the hospital after he had jumped over the railing on the second floor to demonstrate his parkour skills. Evidently, he didn’t have any. At least I hadn’t been the dumbest one that night.
In retrospect, I probably should have seen a doctor afterwards and made sure I didn’t have a concussion, but clearly, I was in my “young and invincible” phase at that point in time.
Thankfully those days are behind me now, but I still have a laugh about how stupid I was back then on occasion.