Is There A Problem, Officer?

A few years ago, I was a pretty hardcore drinker. I rarely spent consecutive days sober, and never spent a weekend sober. I would drink any and every drop of alcohol I could get. Needless to say, I did a bunch of stupid stuff while drunk.

One Saturday night, like clockwork, I guzzled down two 40s. Somewhere in the midst of that, one of my friends shared his Four Loko story with others in my housing complex. This was back when the Four Loko fad was sweeping the nation, and it dawned on me that I had never had one before. I thought I'd jump in too, but being the heavy drinker I was, I didn't think one can would satisfy me. I came back from the store with two and began socializing a bit. Shortly afterwards, the others started making final preparations to leave for a party. I was bored and drunk, so I decided to tag along.

But I didn't want to let the Four Lokos go to waste, so I chugged them both. A few of my friends looked on in surprise, but I assured them that I was over 200 pounds and could handle it. Plus, it's hard to take a colorful can of alcohol seriously anyway. Another friend walked by and said that that was the last thing he remembered saying too. I managed to beat him by a few minutes, as I didn't blackout until a few steps after leaving the house.

Along the way to the party, I chose the bed of someone's pickup truck as an appropriate place to empty my bladder. I managed to become even more obnoxious once we got to the party, as I kept bumming cigarettes and trying to coax people into burning down the frat house across the street. At some point, a fight broke out among some of the other drunken idiots and the cops came. Those sirens were the universal signal for 'Party's over', but that didn't deter me and my friends from sticking around to observe.

Towards the end of it, I got the gall to congratulate one of the cops. I walked up, slapped him on the butt, and shouted "Good job, cop!" as gleefully as I could. Apparently, he didn't like that. He took out his taser and decided I could use a couple volts. After I hit the ground, my friends somehow managed to convince the cop not to arrest me.

The next morning, people were asking me if I was alright. I didn't remember any of it, so I assumed I had made a drunken *** of myself again and dismissed their concerns. Then they shared the story with me. At first, I was incredulous, but then I saw the red bumps on my belly. I became somewhat of a legend after that, and that was pretty cool.
deleted deleted
Jan 14, 2013