Moradiss wrote:I love a good drunk story, it's part of the appeal going to aa meetings

Well, I remember the beginning and the end of the story, but everything in between is blur.
It started off at a frat party on campus, and they had the most delicious punch in garbage cans. It was hot (hey--we're talking North Carolina in August), and so it's not all that surprising that I had a fair amount to drink. And because I had never had Everclear, I didn't even know there was alcohol in the punch.
At some point, I have a vague memory of wandering through Duke Gardens with my sandals in hand, enjoying the wonderful feeling of damp grass on my bare feet.
The next clear memory I have is heaving my guts out in my dorm's bathroom. Some kind soul took pity on me and put a pillow under my head after I passed out on the cold stone floor (still in front of the toilet).
Not all that exciting of a story. No sex or gore . . . just a quiet walk through the gardens and hours of worshiping the porcelain god.