151 and the drunk tank. . . again?

Me and my buddies all hopped on the bus to the mall, and picked up our first beer bong. Before that, we'd grabbed a case of high-percentage beer, and since we'd already slammed a few, we chugged the rest in the beer bong.

We got an intense buzz and managed to avoid security enough. We ran into this girl who decided she'd come back to our buddy's place with us, so we got on to the bus back and headed over there.

Once we got there, his dad pulled out a 26 and sent it into rotation. We finished it really quick, and before we knew it, everyone was shouting and stumbling around the house, making more noise than the dogs were. His dad shouted out, asking if we had any money. We managed to pull out another 20 bucks, so he pitched the other 20 and grabbed us a bottle of 151.

We got the bottle and I quickly started pouring drinks. Most of them were straight 151. My memory phased out quickly and I hardly remember finishing the bottle. I have vague memories of feeling a desperate need to rip bong hoots, and setting out to do that - yet I only remember waking up in my ski boots on the cold, cement floor of the drunk tank, with horrible cramps.

I lay there painfully for a couple hours before they let me out, and I realized that they'd jacked my jamaican toque i'd got at the mall. That sucked. They sent me out and I walked back to my buddy's place to get the shit that I'd left there. It was a long walk and the boots chafed my shins until they were bleeding.

I got there, still quite drunk, and stumbled upstairs. My one buddy and the girl were there, the rest had left. They still seemed pretty drunk too, and we reminisced before I grabbed my stuff (including a giant plastic santa statue i didn't remember getting) and started to head home.

It took another painful, hungover hour to get home, and when I finally got there, I crashed hard. I woke up a few hours later and managed to head to work.