The Happiest Place on Earth

Yesterday I spent the day at my new office then jammed out to get to Downtown Disney in Anaheim to celebrate my friend Leo's birthday. I had to work early today and I decided to have a couple drinks and that I would drive home after the festivities had ended, but as is often the case, the night had different plans that would dictate what I would actually do.

We started with a beer, then a few cocktails in the hotel room, then more beers at the bar, shots of Jagermeister and whiskey, and then fuzziness. We bullshitted and generally caused a ruckus for the bartenders before finally having to leave some time around 12:30AM to try and find a "secret bar." Cross-eyed shithouse as many of us were, it was difficult to put one foot in front of the other, much less navigate to a hidden bar.

We found no bar, but we did find ourselves being whisked out of the general Downtown Disney vicinity, a place normally populated with junior high kiddies and families with youngins, for making noise and tinkling in the perfectly groomed shrubbery. We made it back to the hotel via taxi where I knew it would be a great idea to try and vomit. Since my body has an aversion to puking anywhere that could be easily flushed or cleaned up I was unable to ralph until I got into my bed and had a nice spew.

I woke up this morning still drunk and aching, next to a pile of puke, my fingernails and toenails painted sparkly purple, my wallet and phone marinading in the water that I must have spilled on them and having to drive 45 minutes to make it to work on time. Alas, I made it to work, got a dying breath of "Sayonara" from my phone and got most of the polish off my fingers. It's still on my toes since it looks pretty.