I was fifteen...

...and a group of us all went to a country pub to celebrate my mate's '18th' birthday. He was wearing badges and everything, and we were all keeping a low profile in the corner while he and another mate who was actually old enough were buying the beers.
The Guinness kept flowing for a good few hours before Daz's parents came to pick him and me up at closing time. They had one of those people-carrier jobbys. I still swear to this day it wasn't the booze that made me feel ill; rather the stuffy heat of the car and all those winding country roads. anyway, I was starting to feel a bit queasy, and before I had chance to ask them to pull over, I puked in my mouth. My cheeks were full like a hampster.
I was running through the options in my head of what to do - swallow it, open the window, mime to Daz etc. but a couple of seconds later I puked again. From sitting in the middle back seat I litterally sprayed the front window and Daz's parents with dark brown frothy Guinness chunder. He said it took all of them 2 hours to clean the car the next morning, and I'm still introduced 10 years later as 'the guy that puked on my parents'.

I don't think I'll ever live it down.
( Turquoise Hexagon Sun has just dropped acid on, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 11:46, Reply)