I went to have some wine with the girls at Teri’s. I don’t remember how much I drank, but I know I was feeling good.
Then I fell asleep on Teri’s couch (as recounted by Teri). It was 3 am. She woke me up to ask me if I wanted to catch a cab with another friend. I said yes.
I remember telling stories the entire ride home – exciting, unbelievably interesting stories, of which I remember exactly nothing of the subject matter. This is similar to this night back in February.
I made it home – at least, I made it to the front entrance of my building. I eventually made it to my apartment because I woke up this morning in my bed (without my clothes, shoes, or car keys, but we’ll get to that in a second). In between getting from my front entrance to my bed though, I lost 23 minutes.
My cell history tells reveals an interesting timeline:
At 3:37am, I texted Sam: “I’m drunk, but in the building.”
At 4:01am, I called a friend from university, Ben, who I haven’t seen in a few years to say “Hi” (as recounted by Ben – I don’t remember this call at all).
Ben says when I called him, I was just entering my apartment and tripped over my dog.
Now, it does not take 23 minutes to reach my apartment door from the front lobby, trip over my dog, hang up with Ben, lose whatever I was wearing and the contents of my purse, and throw myself naked into bed (although I’m guessing by my drunken state, paired with the footwear I had on, it likely took me longer to make this trip than usual).
All I can figure is I spent 20-some minutes hanging out in my apartment elevator.
Today I found my car keys underneath the living room ottoman with my shoes. I also stuck my fingers down my throat and forced myself to puke up last night’s taco-marguerita-red wine blend (mmmmm) so that I no longer felt like dying. I marveled at the design of the human body – the built-in anti-poison device that is the gag reflex, the magic show that is the colour returning to my face – and seriously questioned my relationship with alcohol.