So i went to the east coast this past weekend... friend of mine who recently moved to Atlanta was testing for his black belt in Dartmouth, and myself and a few others went to cheer him on. We flew in from Chicago on Friday night, the test was on Saturday, and were supposed to fly back out Sunday morning at the ungodly hour of 6:15. Knowing we would be drinking heavily until near bar time to celebrate our friend's aquisition of said belt, we figured we'd just stay up all night and sleep on the plane, since we would have had to get up at 3:30 or so to get to the airport in Providence anyway.
I've been pretty lucky with traveling throughout my life. Not that there haven't been some bumps, and not that i travel all the time, but there haven't been any major hairballs.
Weekend started off great... ate at some damn good seafood place Friday night, did a workout on Saturday and met Grandmaster Choi, and watched our buddy get his black belt. Followed by a mass Chinese buffet pig out and hanging around with the Boston Tae Kwon Do crew after dinner for awhile.
Then things start getting ugly. Time to hit the bars. We have a designated driver, but he's not too great at navigating in unknown areas. Meanwhile, the rest of us get totally sloshed at some Irish pub in Dartmouth... macking on random chicks, having a great time, and all that. Many "black belt shots" imbibed. Bar time at 2, we're kicked out. We start driving in the general direction of the airport but we've got lots of time before the flight leaves, so one guy, Jeff, starts going off about how he wants to see the ocean... he's never been to either coast before. So we all think, hey what the hell, lets do it. Beach is in the complete opposite direction of airport, but it looks pretty close on the map.
Ends up taking well over an hour to get there, partly because we have to stop four times on the way so various people can get out of the car to hurl vigorously.
Get to beach. Is now 3:45. People who have not yet hurled break out bottle of Jim Beam from trunk, more hurling/ drunken revelry. Jeff starts going ape shit about being at ocean, strips off all his clothes and runs in. Others follow suit, some pass out in sand. Designated driver getting nervous. Splash around for awhile, more drinking, more hurling, back on the road towards airport. About 4:30. Most of passengers including myself passed out.
Halfway to airport we realize we are going to probably not make flight. Fuck. Driver panicky, wakes everybody up. Get to airport, is about 5:30. Made it somehow. Rental car place not yet open, have to return car to some weird ass parking lot that doesn't seem to be listed on airport direction sign thingies. Fuck fuck. Takes us 20 minutes to find lot, which is located down road from airport. Have to take shuttle from lot to airport terminal. During this time much swearing/yelling/slightly more hurling.
Get to check-in at 6:05... flight leaves in 10 minutes. Fuck. As we're in line Jeff suddenly announces he is missing his wallet.... no ID. FFUUUUUUCKK. Search all luggage, pockets, nothing. Take shuttle back to rental car, nothing. Wallet must still be at fucking beach, is long gone. Asshole guy from Northwest airlines is laughing at us. Fuck.
Flight missed. Get on standby for next flight, good thing is 3 hours away, since takes approximately this much time for ID-less guy to convince authorities is not terrorist and get boarding pass. Get on plane... hung-over/still half drunk plane rides mucho no es bueno. Try hard to hold in hurl as not sure how that would work in airplane bathroom, and don't think provided motion sickness bag will have necessary volume to contain beer/spirits of previous evening.
Get to Detroit for layover, have one hour. All feel like shit. Getting to point in recovery where food starts to sound like good idea. Detroit airport is huge, we are at gate 3, way far end of concourse. Not much time for food... start walking for what seems like ages in search of any place that will sell us food. Find McDonalds.. pretty sure is bad idea, as am still somewhat quesy, but low on time, decide fuck it, will get salad or something. Looking at salad menu, decide to try new menu item "Del Rio" Salad. Do not realize that salad has ground beef in it until too late. Veggies and greens seem to be completely coated in hamburger grease from ground beef. Looks fucking gross, think to self that McDonalds ground beef cannot possibly be good idea. But, smells kinda good, am fucking hungry, short on time. Eat 3 forkfuls, grease causes immediate caustic stomach reaction, run to bathroom in anticipation of hurl. Can't seem to force hurl... while kneeling at toilet in airport bathroom, announcement comes on that they are boarding our flight. Fuck. Run back to terminal, feeling like shit... only one other dude from our group there. Other dumbass friends still at McD's... must not have heard announcement. Sprint back to McD's... am sure am going to hurl, somehow don't. Get friends, sprint back to plane. No time to hurl, plane leaves in 10 min... they let us on. Really wish had been able to hurl, as evil grease salad makes this flight 10 times worse then last one.
Make it back to Chicago, stumble in daze to shuttle which takes us to my car. Thankfully one guy feeling awake enough to drive, am finally able to pass out in back seat for duration of ride home. Throw shit on floor, pass out for 5 hours, get up to watch Conan 10th anniversary special. Is quite funny. Am big fan of Triumph, comic insult dog's exploits. Eat dinner consisting of plain hamburger buns and water. Yum. Then bed, finally....