What was I SUPPOSED to do? I mean it’s hard enough to think after about 15 beers and a couple or three who-knows-whats, but when a girl decides to bypass your handshake and instead give your dong a firm grip, you’re pretty much powerless.

My home(for now)town has a bunch of different pub crawls throughout the year, which are all pretty fun excuses to disguise yourself and pretty much pour alcohol all over yourself. The Santa Crawl is the king of these events, bar none. Close to ten thousand Santas attend this event, and it’s growing every year. Stores run out of Santa costumes. Liquor stores run of alcohol. County jails run out of drunk tanks. Old people run out of the city. It’s definitely a must-attend event.

I actually thought ahead and realized that there would be no way in hell that I would actually get home, and reserved a room at the swankiest..err…OK..skanikest hotel near downtown. Then I convinced a couple friends from high school to come to town by sending them pictures of drunk slutty Ms. Clauses from years past. They signed right up, considering they are as big of pussy wolves as I am. Ravenous.

Big J always has a super gnarly pre pub crawl party at his place, complete with more alcohol than would be needed for a North pole expedition. This year he had a massive trash can full of beer cans, and 20 handles of Vodka. Twenty. And most people naturally brought their own poison as well. We convened over there, and proceeded drink like we had just gotten home safe from the front lines of WWII. The only thing slowing us down was the cheap itchy white beards we were all wearing, which seemed to soak up the alcohol like some type of external liver. Fuck those fake beards. Lots of shotgunning of lots of beers (you have to rematch someone if they drink the first one faster than you, duh) and even a couple shots from between some random girl’s tits, and we were off to downtown.

Eleven people in a Jeep Liberty. I do not advise it.  But cab rides were at least an hour out, and there was only one person capable of driving. Or so she said. I was literally laying on top of people with my head pointed straight out the front window. Don’t hit the brakes hard, please. We made it to downtown, and tried to figure out where the fuck to go. Couldn’t find the girl I’ve been trying to fuck for 2 years at the first place, so we moved out. Next bar.

So we bounced around this totally fuckin packed bar for a while, spilling drinks on people, spilling some into our faces as well. Standard. I ran into my friend Mike and his roommates. They were pretty much killing it as well. Mike was there with his little (more on that later) sister, and he brought her over to introduce her to me…”Hey” I said. Smooth. She looked at me, looked at my outstretched hand, and moved in for a serious power move. She grabbed my dick. “You’re fuckin hot” she said. That’s when I knew she was as wasted as I was.

Mike was noticeably pissed about it. Can’t blame him. After all, he knows me. Not my fault though. So within a minute, we (I never got her name) were off to my rented palace of love, my cock in her hand more often than not, like I was a dog on a short leash. About 3 blocks later we made it to the hotel. I had planned well enough to text myself the room number cuz Lord knows I couldn’t say the word “number” at that point. We got into the room, and immediately got naked.

Have you ever seen those commercials for those elastic thingies that women wear to “hide” all that…extra mush? Ummm….yeah. Bad. Well fuck it, I was on a mission, and there was a big ass target in front of me. So I attacked from the rear. It seemed the safest position, given the circumstances. So I pounded away at this one for a while and then she took it all. Graphic. Sorry. So I immediately put my clothes back on, and encouraged her to hurry up and get the fuck out of my room, so I could go back out and party some more. She was about as coherent as a bag of smashed assholes at this point. Which is exactly what she was. In the middle of dressing her, my buddies come in to the room, talking about how bad it smelled in the room. Well, yeah. I was sick of it, so I went down stairs to play some craps and have a Bloody Mary. Or five.

The homies came and joined me at the craps table, and mostly watched while I discussed craps strategy with a Hennessy-drinking ‘thug from who-knows-where-but-somewhere-I’m-scared-of. He knew his shit though. “Let it ride, nigga!” Wisdom spewed from this young brotha. Enough wisdom to put me in the hole a few hundred bucks. Fuck this, I’m hungry. “Where’s Joey?”

Joey has always been one to wander off on his own. He’s the type of guy that’s the same level of drunk whether he’s had four beers or forty. Ted and I stumbled our way to the diner, where we found him wandering around alone. He sat with us, and told us the story of making out with a crack head in the bathroom. Nice. We ate some food (I think) and wandered back to the room just in time to see the sun rise. Inspiring.

The next day, while I layed on the couch at home, probably still way too drunk to drive, I get a phone call. “Hey it’s me. I think I left my friend’s ID in your room last night. Did you grab it?” “Hang on, let me look.” I dug in my pockets, and lo an behold, an ID. Some mean scary looking girl. “Yeah I have it.” “Can I come over and get it?” “NOO. I’ll meet you somewhere”. So I met her at a neutral location in town. handed her the ID, and bounced. I’m sure I looked like hell too, but she was pretty fuckin’ throttled.

Sometimes I save a person’s number in my phone so I can know who it is so I NEVER answer the call. This was one of those times.