My First Blackout

This is one of the first stories I ever wrote, about 10 years ago.  The good news is my writing has improved somewhat since then.  The bad news is, as you can see from the title, I don’t have the memory to go back and improve this one a whole lot.

I was 24 years old.  I worked in the athletic department of a university that shall remain nameless, but I will tell you we were one of the hosts of the first weekend of the NCAA men’s baksetball tournament.  It was a really big deal for all of us, great exposure for the school, and there was a ton of pressure to make sure everything went off without a hitch.

So by Saturday night I had worked approximately 85 hours in five days, during which time I had been able to see about 15 minutes of actual basketball.  I had passed the point of exhaustion and entered the delirious phase.

It also happened to be St. Patrick’s Day.

There was a huge outdoor festival going on at this bar owned by a guy we knew.  We were on the VIP list, but by the time we got there (around 10:30), they’d already closed the VIP gate.  Fortunately, our football team was all working as security, so we got them to sneak us in the back.

We were supposed to meet one of my student employees there, Janie.  Janie used to be a volleyball player for us and now she was one of my top workers.  She was also drop-dead gorgeous; about 5’8″, long blond hair, and an outstanding VB player’s body.  Her whole family was really cool too: her parents were good old fashioned drunken Irish folk, and besides Janie there were two other daughters of drinking age.

The oldest sister was Michelle.  Janie may have gotten the looks in the family, but Michelle got the boobs.  I mean, these things were gargantuan.  Gargantuan doesn’t even do them justice, they’re that big.  Unfortunately, she also had what my roommate refers to as “summer teeth;” some’re here, some’re there.  But she’s still got those bombs.  She’s also a totally cool chick and we’ve always gotten along.

It was myself, my roommate Sandpaper, and of course the legend himself, Tripod.  We started hitting the booze hard and fast, with total disregard for the fact that we were so tired we were running on fumes.  Before too long we ran into the whole family, and Michelle practically jumped into my arms, excitedly informing me, “I broke up with my boyfriend this week!”  Now, at this point I was only working on my fourth or fifth drink, so I was still cool and reserved enough to say, “So, lookin’ for some rebound sex?”

So, blah blah blah, we’re talkin’, I’m drinkin’ like an absolute fish.  I’m hangin’ with the parents, they absolutely adore me.  (Apparently they don’t know my ancestors are English and have probably oppressed them for generations.)  I’m talkin’ with Janie and she adores me too, to the point that she’s actually encouraging me to go after her sister.  Well, okay, I’m borderline beliggerant at this point, so I start makin’ my move.

At this point details began to get a little sketchy, because for the first time in my life I was so drunk that I have a few blank spots in the memory.  But I do know that at some point I started making out with Michelle about ten feet from her parents.  Nobody seemed to mind too much, since the dad didn’t beat my ass and Janie didn’t sick her 270-pound football player boyfriend on me.  I couldn’t tell you how long we stood there making out, but it had to be quite a long time because I distinctly remember pausing once to get a fresh drink and once more to take a piss.

As cool as her parents were, they weren’t about to let me haul her off and have my drunken sloppy way with her. The mom drug her off at the end of the night so she wouldn’t go home with me.  Not that I was probably in any condition to do much to her anyway, but I guess we’ll never know.  (At this point in my life I was still too young to have experienced whiskey dick, but if ever there was a night that would have been it.)

Jump ahead to the next morning, when I wake up with a throbbing hangover and it suddenly dawns on me what had transpired the night before.  I stumbled out of my bedroom and asked Sandpaper, “Did I really make out with that girl in front of her parents??”

“Fuck yeah, numbnuts!  I was just standing there drinkin’ and I look over and I say to myself, ‘Jesus Christ, is he makin’ out with that chick in front of her parents?’  Sure enough, there you were.  Good work, slapdick.”

I still didn’t fully grasp the scope of my situation.  “Was it really that bad?”

He just laughed.  “Let’s just say I was shocked, shocked I say, that you didn’t get your ass kicked by the dad.  But he seemed to take it pretty well, he must’ve been even more fucked up than you.”

So I called Tripod to get his side of the story. He’s already laughing his ass off at me when he answers the phone.  “Yeah, dude, that was pretty bad.  But you know what was even worse was when you asked Janie if she would mind if you fucked the shit out of her sister.”

Yep, I think I might have a drinking problem.



  1. Oh the memories. I swear you were feeling the full bags also in front parents.

  2. I have no recollection of groping her fun bags, and neither Tripod nor Sandpaper ever mentioned such an indiscretion. But let’s face it, those things were massive, I probably did.

  3. […]  If you like crazy wasted stories I recommend my buddy’s story  my-first-blackout I guarantee a good […]

  4. Holy shit, I am shocked the father did not smash you.

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