re: Worst place you've thrown up

On an amusement park ride called the “squirrel cages. It sucked for my little brother...and anyone beneath us.

While looking for an image of that ride, I came across this.

What

The

frick?

My high school buddy’s girlfriend deposited the rare trifecta in his car. She had been sick for a week with the flu in 1972. She just started feeling good enough for them to go to a Mardi Gras ball on the weekend. She felt like she was okay to drink, and had too many. They were headed home, and she pissed on herself, then lost control while sobbing, and vomited and shite on herself in his car.

Don't know if it's "the worst," since the worst is when you throw up on yourself, someone else, or on something and experience many repercussions, but for me it's my strangest and most memorable.

Back in my party days, me and a group of friends would head to New Orleans for big events, like Mardi Gras and NYE. At one of those times, I was really into gin and juice. (hey, it was the 90's) Specifically, gin and CRANBERRY juice. I worked in a restaurant that's no longer there (RIP Prytania on George O'Neal) as a line cook, and that particular evening I had to close. The plan was for my friends to pick me up at the restaurant and for us to hopefully get to NOLA by midnight, but it meant they had to pick up the inebriation materials.

I finish closing at about 10:45, I'm soupy and smelly from working the line, but I snarfed some french fries and other starchy things to aid in the festivities. Friend A is driving 5 of us in his Geo, and we're ready to roll. I hop in, hoping for a cold cranberry juice bottle (which, looking back, I could have just asked for a bottle of it from the bar at work) and a small plastic container of Seagram's Extra Dry - easy peasy, pour out a pint of the juice, pour in the gin, toss the gin bottle, and go take over the world. (we're all underage and I don't want an open container of gin)

Instead, I find a bottle of warm pineapple juice and a full fifth of Seagram's. Scratch plan A at this point as far as the pour-out, and I was not (and am not) a big fan of pineapple juice. C'est la vie, ya gotta make do.

We get to somewhere around MSY and I'm frustrated trying to drink this - at first it was take a small mouthful of pineapple juice and a nip of gin, but we're three across in the backseat of a Geo, it's dark, I'm sitting squeezed up to a girl I was digging on, and we're passing around...other inebriation materials, and this isn't working. So I get the bright idea to just get enough room in the pineapple juice bottle (a half-gallon) to pour in the gin and get a free hand. Mistake number 1 - I had drank about a quarter of it, so the gin doesn't all fit. Mistake number 2 - I was more focused on fitting the gin into the pineapple juice bottle that I wasn't thinking about how STRONG I was making it, I was just trying to complete the task.

As we start hitting the outskirts of NOLA (I think, it starts getting pretty blurry at this point) I finally gave up, poured as much gin into the pineapple juice as possible, and capped it and put it down on the floorboard - maybe a third of it was left. Thing is, they all (except the driver) pregamed while waiting on me to finish work, and none of them liked gin, so I was on my own.

My next clearest memory, since I at this point had been working on consuming roughly 2/3 of a fifth of gin, (and it started tasting better - imagine that) is of us driving down Canal St. passing around a blunt. It gets passed to me, and I start to hit it, the urge comes - FAST - and I casually reach over, open the door (I'm behind the driver) and honk down Canal St. I lean back in, begin closing the door, then - nope - honk again.

Everyone's freaking out, driver thinks I spewed in the car, and I'm sitting there holding the blunt grinning like an idiot. I puff it, then try to pass it, but no one is having any of that. Girl next to me was unimpressed, to say the least. I think at some point (when it was clear I was no longer a danger to throw up in the car) we went to Krystal Burger, but I'm not sure.

To this day I don't like pineapple juice (but can stomach it) and cannot stand even the smell of gin. Even typing out this story makes me a bit queasy.

Mardi Gras ball room