The 14 Shooters Story
One of the more weirder phases I went through while in college was when I started collecting shooter bottles. I couldn't explain it any better than, they were small and I had to have everyone. But there was one day when I had nearly 40 of these little bottles, about half were still full, and I realized how stupid this was so I decided to get rid of them. Well it was easy getting rid of the empty ones but the only way to get rid of the full ones was to drink them.
So I told everyone I knew of this bonanza that was going to take place this weekend and a couple said they would join in. I mean, seriously, who would turn down free liquor. Then Friday rolls around and everyone had some lame excuse like, "oh I've got tons of homework" or "I'm not feeling too well" or "we've got real parties to go to". Lame-o's. I don't fucking need them. Even my roommate, Schilling, didn't want to suck down a few ounces of liquor. I believe this was during the marathon phone calls to his girlfriend two time zone away and he didn't want to interrupt their "together" time.
Then I thought, I could do it. It's only 20 shooters. Roughly 2.5 ounces each. All I have to do is ration them out over a long evening. I mean come on, it's a big gulp. Piece-o-fucking-cake.
At around 5pm on Friday, shortly after dinner, I started. I won't bore you with the details of the drinking as there really isn't any. I was literally doing nothing. Just sitting at my computer, probably just chatting online. People would come by and I would tell them of my quest and I would get the occasional laugh or the sober and condescending, "oh that's nice. I'm going to go read".
I was told at around 11:30pm or midnight that I decided to go for a walk. I remember getting buzzed and then drunk and then I thought I should walk this off. My last recollection of the number of bottles I had drank was 10. When I woke up at 2am in the engineering building, curled in a bathroom stall, huddled around a toilet (not that unusual for me while drunk, ask anyone), I knew something was awry. My whole left side was covered in dirt like I had fallen or slept on a dirt road and then realized this might not be the best venue. My next memory is waking up in my dorm room the next morning.
The only details of that walk that I know of are from the drunkanese translation that Schilling could decipher as I told him at 3am as I finally made it back to the dorm room. Apparently this was quite an eventful "walk"; I had pissed many times in public, I walked all the way out to the Bear cages, which are at least 1.5 miles from the dorm and 2 or 3 miles from the engineering building, I had walked a drunk girl home who wanted, of all things, "protection" and of course sleeping in the bathroom stall of the engineering building. From what Schilling could make out there was no timeline to these events that I told him, just a random string of events splurted out by a drunkard. Schilling mentioned that after I was gone nearly 3 hours he started to get worried. I guess he figured he would do something about it in the morning.
The finally tally of bottles finished, 14. I failed.