The Longest Blackout Ever

When Steve and I hopped in the Outback to head down to DC for the Syracuse Georgetown game, we had trouble packed in our dufflebags. My friend Zak had a 20 person suite at the MCI Center. We knew boozing was going to start early on Saturday for the noon game. Little did we know that boozing from Friday night wasn;t going to stop at all. After a 4+ hour drive, we pull into Union Jack's in Bethesda to meet the crew, and when they show up we immediately start doing rounds of Jager shots. I mean rounds and rounds. They had been at their humble abode, the mini-mansion, (it lives up to its name) pounding everclear, and it was noticeable in their slurred speech and droopy eyes. We get back to their place at 3am and toke for a few hours. Next thing I know the sun is shining and its 9am. I get up off the coach fully clothed with my shoes still on, look at Nuedo and say "Shit. My shoes are already on. Looks like I'm ready to go." and grab a glass of booze off the table....its full of puke. Me from the night before I suddenly remember. So I head to the kegerator. 4 sips later and I'm back in the bag, and the hangover never even had a chance to sink in. In preparation for the game we each fill a Sprite bottle with whiskey. At the gate, the spunky ticket collector says "What the hell is that?" as she bats her wand against my crotch. I say "What? Thats just me." To which she gives me the "take-that-out-of-your-pants-or-I'll-cut-you" glare. I take it out as she says "Fool. You're allowed to have that. Go on in." The game was quite forgetable, and afterwards we headed to an empty McFaddens in Georgetown to cause ruckus. Upon arriving, we learn that it is Tony the bartender's birthday, whcih causes us to break into song every 5 minutes, to his pleasure. Suddenly he asks if any of us has bartending experience, as he is overwhelmed. Nuedo raises his hand and shoots behind the bar as Tony disappears for about 10 minutes. Needless to say, the shots came rapidly and never appeared on our tabs. Then Nuedo becomes overwhelmed and calls for an assistant, as Amlin hops behind the bar. After being kicked out as guedt bartenders, we decided that we had had enough of McFadden's, so Oral stuck our free parting gift, a bottle of Absolut, into his jacket sleeve, and we hopped a cab to some random house party. Aside from an incident where Nuedo threw a half-eaten jello shot into a vat of meatballs and someone immediately asked "who the FUCK put jello in the chili?" we were pretty harmless. Or so we thought. Thank God Nuedo's plans to toss someone through the low-laying second story wondow never worked out. About 8pm, as Nuedo, Bicks and I sat downstairs talking about leaving, 7 of the biggest guys at the party rolled up with their arms crossed in silence. Nuedo was on the phone with Oral and he said "Gotta go. Looks like we're getting thrown out." The ring leader asked us why we thought this, to which we replied, look at you, you're fucking ready to fight. They never told us why they were kicking us out, but they put their hands on Nuedo a few times, which almost led to chaos. Finally, as they slammed the door in my face, I saw a girl I had been talking to upstairs and asked why are we getting kicked out? To which she pointed at me and said "it was you!" I suddenly flashbacked to about 15 minutes earlier when I had suggested she make out with a few of her lady friends. I thought she found this funny. I guess not. So we headed back to the minimansion for bong hits and more booze before heading to Vegas Lounge, a dive bar with $10 cover, a rocking funk band and the Bush twins slutting around the dance floor. Nuedo bee-lined up to one of them to start grinding when she turned around, looked him up and down and said "Are you fucking serious?" After about 4 hours of Vegas Lounge, it was closing in on 3am, and we decided to catch a cab. At this point it was Nuedo, Radin and myself. The cabbie didn't like that we were telling him how much we were going to pay, so he pulled over and asked for money. We told him to take $20 or we were going to ditch him. He said no, its $26, or he was going to call the cops. So, we ditched him. We ran up the street and dove into a few bushes as he slowly creeped by. Then we backtracked behind an apartment building and scaled a 10 foot fence, as we dove to the ground every time a cab approached. After another cab picked us up and kicked us out a mile later, refusing to take us all the way home, we found a third cab and made it back to the mini-mansion. And that, my friends, is a weekend spent in Blackout City. Nuedo, please fill in any blanks as you see fit.