My first 21st birthday, when I was 18.
Ah, Youth. Like the smell of a freshly mown yard, Youth is something to be enjoyed. When I say Youth, I hope you realize I am actually saying “Stupidity”. You see, during my freshman year of college I got a fake ID in Philadelphia during Christmas break. I picked North Carolina as my fake residence, and 1980 as my fake birth year, and lets be honest. In 1980, my mother had no business having a child. Well, upon returning to college, the ID was taken on my first night out. I should have taken that $75 and ate it, then poo’d it, then flush it down the toilet. But, every end is the start of a new beginning, and what a journey this was.
So, there I was with my best friend in the college cafeteria pulling my hair out over how I was going to suffice my drinking habits in public without an ID. Then, I hatched possibly the boldest plan of my life. With his life insurance card, and AAA card, both of which were expired, I would go to the DMV, pose as said friend (who i look like if he was a starving child), change the picture to my own and waa lah, have a real ID with my picture. Long story short, i told the DMV i was pick pocketed downtown, and these 2 forms (insurance, AAA) were the only 2 things I kept in my car and that I would need a new license. Then, I told them I recently had a horrible battle with pneumonia earlier that fall and had lost weight in my face, which is why I looked thinner than past pictures in the computer system. Upon almost crying due to totally false circumstances, the lady issued me a new license, with a new picture and waived the $20 fee for a new license. Epic, Genius, Shots!
This really could not have been timed better, for my best friends birthday was right around the corner on January 23rd. So out we went, me, my friend and his twin. 2 guys celebrating their 21st, 1 guy breaking the law and celebrating his 21st at the age of 18. Naturally, we went over to their mom’s house for dinner, which was delicious and then out to the bars. Being Youthful, Energetic and now fast forwarded 3 years, I quickly became the most intoxicated of the group.
Everything above is merely a preface to what is about to come, so if you made it this far, treat yourself to a capri sun. So, we get back to Mom’s house and I am so hammered that birthday boy determines that I should sleep in his bed, and he will sleep on the couch (all together now, AWWW). Well around 430AM, apparently, I wake up needing to pee. Instead of going into the bathroom directly across from the bedroom, I hang a ralph (right, idiot), and start walking up the staircase. Mind you, at the top of the stairs is his single mother’s master bedroom and bath, and it’s fucking presidential. Not only do I climb the stairs, I enter the master suite. Upon entering the master suite I hang a louie (left, idiot) into the master bathroom (I dont remember any of this). I then decide that it is my best option to stand in the jacuzzi tub, did I mention I am butt naked? After I stand in the jacuzzi tub, hands on hips, I realize that geez, I need to urinate. Rather than get out of the tub and over to the toilet, I apparently see that the seat is already lifted. I shout “from downtown” and try to pee from tub to toilet, about 15 feet. Quickly, I realize I dont have the outside jumper so I just start walking in circles, in the tub, covering the bathroom in pee. At this point the mother wakes up, and hears a steady stream of piss hitting the bathroom walls, and me giggling at a constant and rapid rate.
Naturally, after relieving myself, I exit the bathroom, still naked. Instead of turning right and heading back down the stairs, I turn left and enter the walk in closet. This is when I begin to regain memory. There I am, standing in a woman’s walk in closet, and I realize that I am ass naked, and I do not know where I am, or what I have just done. Naturally, I start seperating the clothes that are hanging as if searching for the door to Narnia, to see the lion the witch and the wardrobe…did i know that the actual door was behind me? Apparently not. So, after realizing that this probably wasn’t a badass narnia closet, I decide it is probably time to put some clothes on. The left side of the closet is all jump suits (mom is a flight trauma nurse, and wears jumpsuits when transporting patients in a helicopter). Granted, these jumpsuits are A) for a woman and B) for a woman who is 5’2 110 pounds. At 6’2, 165 pounds i decide that it is my best option to try to fit into one of these one piece garments. I immediately become frustrated that the ankle of the jumpsuit comes to my knee, and that i cant get the torso portion up past my nipples. I fall over. Then, in an angelic tone, I hear “what…are you….doing”. I look up, behind me, and there is an upside down version of friend’s mom. Immediately, I start weeping and saying “I dont know where I am…I dont know I am….these clothes don’t fit.”
She patiently gets my naked self up, takes me downstairs, lays me down on the couch, and says “do you need anything, are you okay” and i said “where am i, i still dont know where i am”.
She woke me up 4 hours later at about 930, crying laughing, with a mop in her hand. To this day, when I visit, she reminds me of the downstairs bathroom, I have refused to promise to use it, or apologize.
