My best drinking story is that I had my last drink 14 years ago. ‘Nuf said.

My best drinking story is one told to me by my parents, because I don’t even remember it. See, it was actually my birthday party in which I got very drunk. Also, I was 2

So apparently these old boomers thought “Oh it’s only one tiny sip, she’ll be fine. doesn’t matter that she’s 2”, but they all had that same idea, and after a few “one tiny sips” I was one tiny drink toddler. Thanks mom and dad. Probably didn’t help my brain develop very well :/

Anyway, that’s the best drinking story I have because I don’t drink. Not even because of this; I just don’t much care for the taste or the feeling, so yeah

I was at a music festival, we were camped out across from a bunch of really obnoxious frat bro types. They weren’t causing any real issues and we were an decent terms with them as campsite neighbors, they were just really loud and obnoxious and had a different sort of energy than my group.

One guy in my campsite had one of the big 1 litre German boot glasses. Frat bros found out about this and wanted to give it a try, so we let them.

We watched them pour 2 12 oz PBRs into it (it will hold about 3), and fail to chug it.

I’m a pretty proficient chugger, so I decided to show them up. Filled the glass up with a considerably heavier beer, started to walk over to demonstrate how it’s done. As I’m walking out of our site though, it dawned on my already slightly innebrated brain that it had been a while since I’d chugged a litre, so I wanted to make sure I could still do it, so I downed a full test boot, immediately filled it back up, and walked over to demonstrate how it was done for our rowdy neighbors and executed the maneuver flawlessly.

So with 2 liters of beer in my stomach, I then went into my tent to have a little power-blackout to recharge my batteries for a night of debauchery.

When I was eight my family went to this BIG party at another family’s house. They had these racks of pop/soda that were kind of big bottles to me at the time…probably 16 oz. Many flavors and my favorite was root beer. I was stupid enough to drink two bottles which was enough to make me puke.

Yes, at 8 I went to a house party, drank too much root beer and puked. I cannot imagine what others at the party thought of that.
You would think I had learned my lesson but I did the same thing at the same house party the next year.

All of which was just practice for drinking actual beer in college…and beyond.
I did finally learn my lesson in my 40s and stopped drinking alcohol. And root beer.

I apparently scaled a parking garage, climbed in at the third story and peed against a car when my concerned friends came to get me. I have no recollection of the actual climbing or peeing. This was back when I was about 16 years old and just old enough to be drinking lots and lots of beer…

Oh and I ate a full bowl of ‘mon cheri’ chocolates while watching TV when I was about 4 or 5 years old which made me very very drunk, when my parents went skiing while thinking I was asleep.

Well here’s my worst: I relapsed after having dropped my tolerance and the EMTs scraped me out of a ditch and took me to my job, although thank God I don’t work in the ED. Apparently I said something to the effect of “just let me die” which wound up getting me a babysitter (suicidaldrunksitter?) and wound up having to talk to a pgy-2 who very clearly (and nervously) recognized me. Fortunately my hospital is relatively with it on the evidence-based-practice even in behavioral health so he knew to wait until I was sober again to do a full assessment, because that would’ve been a whole week down the drain in grippy sock jail.

I emerged from a blackout drunk sitting in a classroom; it was the last hour of the GRE (graduate record exam). I was reeking of alcohol and I remember feeling sorry for the poor bastards seated next to me. I finished and walked directly across the hallway to the bathroom and vomited a while.

I’d gone to a bar the night before for one dollar draft beer; I had $2, so 1 beer + tip. I don’t know exactly what happened but later heard people thought it would be funny to buy me drinks before the exam and I was too young/dumb not to accept.

The most bizarre part of the story is I scored a dead-average score on the exam.

Parents and grandparents always offered me and my siblings sips of whatever drink they were having. Always tasted nasty.

Then as we hit adulthood we realized that booze tastes great, they just always bought absolute trash wine and Coors.

One time I was at a work buddies place after a party when things were cooling off.

The poor guy was born with spinal bifida, so had ‘seen more operations than you’ve had hot dinners’, sort of thing… He showed me the scars up his back which was from multiple attempts to improve his spinal alignment as he grew, and it was like a whole lot of ladders, cris-crossing up either side of his vertebrae. It was at that point I got really queasy, which may have been brewing for a while?

So he handed me this big glass vase in case I threw and we waited by the bench for a few minutes. I remember tucking it under my chin and holding it in my hand and looking at the floor…

I came to on the floor, surrounded by broken glass with a cut across the bone between my left eye and temple. He saw me when I fainted, falling and had the presence of mind to grab my hand as I fell, so I twisted and dropped it sideways. I still don’t know if that line occurred to him afterwards or not.

I spent the next week or pretending to myself I’d been in a knife fight or something equally lame, but it was all rather fortunate, really (being a 20y/o douchebag and all).

I still wonder how that dudes doing, he was neat…

So from ages 16 to about 22, I was the guy who would get blackout drunk and into wacky situations. This is one of them.

I had just moved to a little town in Ontario with some buddies from BC. We moved into our apartment on Halloween, and one of said buddy’s cousins was having a party. I tossed on my army jacket, put some blue hair gel on my head, deemed myself a punk and headed out with my 26 of Jamieson in tow.

The last thing I remember was telling the host “Nah, I don’t need a cup or chase, I’ll just keep drinking from the bottle.” Things got hazy, then suddenly I was in a holding cell.

Let’s take a step back for a moment. This wasn’t my first time inside a holding cell - but this was literally my first night as a resident of this place. I had only a vague sense of where my place was relative to the rest of the town. I did not memorize the address. I had no family or support network there, other than my two friends. And I had exactly zero knowledge of the journey from the party to the cell.

So naturally, I start screaming, asking why I was there and what I did, trying to squeeze through the bars, etc. etc. Cop comes by, says “If you don’t know why you’re here, that’s why you’re here. Just get some sleep and we’ll talk in the morning”. Still freaking out but recognizing there wasn’t much I could do, I passed out on the slab.

In the morning, the cops got me out of the cell, and explained that I had passed out on someone’s lawn on what I learned was the other side of town from the party. When they picked me up, I apparently told them I had no fixed address, and they took me in. As I was apparently very cooperative they handed me a ticket and sent me on my way.

So there I was - it’s about 7:00 AM on November 1st. I had blue-smeared, slept-on-a-concrete slab matted hair, I was in that nasty ‘still drunk but also hungover’ pocket, outside of a cop station with still no idea where I was relative to my place. So I just start walking.

Eventually, I make it to the centre of town. I notice a big gathering of people and stumble over to see what it was. Some guy sees me, and hands me a protest sign. After a few minutes, I realize it’s an anti-New World Order protest of some kind. I look around for some place to drop the sign, and see a sudden flash. Someone took my picture - and the dude was wearing one of those press passes around his neck.

My second day in town, and there was me - haggered, literal gutterpunk looking ass holding a protest sign at an unhinged protest, with a picture taken for the local newspaper. Neat.

Eventually I find my house. I walk in, and my buddies are like “Holy shit, what the fuck happened?”. Apparently, I got so drunk I fell off the porch and was just generally being a fool, and got kicked out of the party. These guys then took me to try and get some pizza in me at some place. At a certain point, I just dropped my piece on the floor, left the building, and the rest is history.

I don’t talk to those guys anymore. I don’t drink whiskey from the bottle anymore either.

What’s funny to me is that this isn’t even my first unhinged drinking story from that place - I found myself on the wrong end of a 12 v. 3 brawl at a Pizza Pizza over someone calling my buddy a chicken nugget, the day we went to sign our lease - but that’s a tale for another day.

Weed’s soooo much better, kids.

Back in my first year of university, we went on a three day trip to London. The trip itself was a yearly tradition for the History department and everyone in the freshman year went.

An urban legend had been making rounds. A student on a previous London trip got so drunk on absinthe that he was caught in the bathroom at 4AM writing messages in his own shit on the walls and mirror. My university almost got barred from that particular hostel.

Several years after graduation, I meet somebody who studied at the same university and did the exact same degree as me, but five years prior. It happened during his year and he slept in the bunk next to the student who did it.

At first I was about to scroll to the next topic because this doesn’t apply to me, I’ve never drank in my life. But then I thought, “Hey I could live vicariously through you guys for a minute on this typical socially-bereft lonely Saturday night. I shall read these stories.”

While drinking at night with my buddy and his friend they decided it would be fun to start punching each other. No I’m not kidding they weren’t even fighting or anything just typical young adult male macho bs just wanted to see who could take more punishment. They tried getting me in on it lol nah no thanks. Had to hold my buddy up as we drunkenly wobbled home.

Not mine. I saw it on reddit. Goes something like this:

A guy had his 21st birthday. His parents were invited (why?!?!).

He got so maggot drunk that he ended up wastedly having sex, with a blow up sex doll, completely naked on the loungeroom floor, right in front of his parents feet.

I can only imagine the horror.

Well…