Wednesday, April 06, 2011

Whiteout

Some people think that a "whiteout" is a snowstorm that keeps eager skiers from getting on the slopes during torrential winds. Others believe that it's liquid made for fixing errors made in permanent pen. Sports fans remember the Winnipeg White-Out during the 1987 Stanley Cup Playoffs. Even more remotely, certain college fraternities believe that a white-out is when the drunkest white-kid at the party stands on the table and rocks out with his **** out.

All of those valiant, but rather obvious answers sound like a good time in one way or another but they are all wrong. The version of a "whiteout" that I'm writing about is basically the opposite of a "blackout" - the drinking sort. Every serious drinker out there has had a sobering moment when they exited their blackout state and woke up to a very "WTF" situation. Be it at a stranger's house, mom knocking on your window when you're passed out in the car, or driving 90 mph down Hwy 5, they are all some of the most confusing moments we'll ever have in our lives. In my time, I've had some been in some interesting circumstances and I think it's about time I shared some of them.

The first time I ever blacked-out I was in Vegas. These days I start out epic nights with 3-shots but that night I started it out with 3 Long Island Ice Tea's, 3 shots of Bacardi rum, and whatever else my buddy wanted to drink 3 of. I just remember dancing with a lot of girls, yaking God-knows where, and then waking up in front of our casino room door. After knocking for about 40 minutes I looked up, realized I was on the 7th floor instead of the 12th, walked up to the correct room, and then was let in safely around 7am.

The second time I ever blacked-out I was in Vegas. The night started out with shots, followed by a bottle filled with Hennessy a bunch of us passed around while in line for the club. I woke up after a nap, sitting up in a bathroom stall for some reason. But this story is not about me. Out of the other people that touched lips to that Hennessy bottle: one ended up in the children's hospital - tied up to the bed!; one was brought to our room in a wheel chair!; and the rest were completely trashed beyond function. I was in recovery mode for so long that it wasn't until Tuesday that I checked my phone and read, "come to room XXX" from the girl I met at the craps table.

A few years ago I woke up tied up on a couch in Tahoe. Those were probably my bitter years from relationship-hell so I was a tad out of control at the time. We were coming back from the South Lake casinos and my friend got pulled over by the cops. I have no idea why, but I immediately tried to sober up by drinking coffee out of the cup holder that was a week old and trying to get out of the car and help the situation...? Luckily, the door was broken! What a crazy night. The next morning I woke up and said, "at least I didn't throw up", which was followed by, "you threw up at least 3 times." So, I guess I deserved getting tied up by my college pals.

Probably a little over a year ago, I whitted-out to a definite WTF moment. The world suddenly came to and I was at Pizza-My-Heart. Initially, I thought I was there to enjoy a nice pizza pie but my arm was kind of asleep and apparently around some girl I did not know. Looking across my arm and over at her - I saw the real reason why I had suddenly come to. All down the right side of my favorite A|X jacket was chunky-white vomit that could only have came from one other source. She was pretty and a doctor, but I never did call her.

More recently, I had a marathon of a St Patrick's Day celebration in SF. We started drinking at around 9am and hopped on Cal Train towards the city. We drank before leaving, we drank on Cal Train, we drank at lunch, we drank at a couple of Irish pub block parties, and we drank at the Civic Center, where we saw this guy being wheel-chaired off:. Most of the group peaced-out at about 6pm, but one of my buddies and I stuck around. I whitted-out to these two girls following us around from bar-to-bar and wondering who the hell they were and how we met them. After wandering to at least 3 other bars with them in toe, we finally ditched them in favor of a taxi to catch the last Cal Train back home. Looking at my phone the next day I couldn't figure out who she was because I apparently had texted 3 people I met that night. Let's not go there though because drunk texting is an entirely new blog in itself...

So... what are your whiteout stories?